


Kirkwall Imperial Destiny

by OneTrueKingOfWinter



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate History, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Viscount Hawke - Freeform, Worldbuilding, a retelling of dragon age 2 where Hawke actually is able to affect the city state
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneTrueKingOfWinter/pseuds/OneTrueKingOfWinter
Summary: The Fifth Blight is over. The Elves have a new Homeland. Orzammar has a King who will remake the Ancient Empire Anew. A new power has risen in the South to Challenge the Hegemony of Orlais. Amidst these new powers a new one is Arising in Kirkwall, at the hands of a lowly Refugee. Kirkwalls Destiny begins, with the meeting between a Hawk and a Dwarf. The World will shake Before Them.A retelling of Dragon Age 2 and beyond, exploring the consequenses of a Hawke who actually is able to affect Kirkwall, for better or worse.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Varric Tethras





	1. Prologue

As she awoke, her nose was bombarded with the regular scents of Kirkwall. The Smell of smog from endless smithies and furnaces. The smell of salt and fish from the Harbor just a small walk away. And of course the lovely Scent of piss where drunks urinated in alleys and the blood of some drunkard who had been unfortunate enough to stumble into the iron spikes lining the roads of the City. There were a lot of those.

This was Kirkwall, in all it's splendor.

As she raised herself in her bed, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She took in the rest of the room. Her Brother Carver was completely out, sleeping like a babe. Or rather like an old man who liked to make as much sound as possible while asleep. Bethany was somewhat similar, though unlike carver, she didn't snore like an annoying storm.

Mother was also fast asleep, her calm weak breathing being drowned out by carver. She did a lot of that lately, sleep and stay in her bed. Hawke could have said she was a huge drain on their limited resources, but the truth was mother barely ate half of what anyone else in the family ate these days.

She'd seen that happen a lot of times in her days in the Ferelden Army, soldiers stopped eating as much as they should. Usually after something horrible happened, like a werewolf aftermath, or an abomination rising and slaughtering some farmhold.

Mother simply hadn't been able to bounce back from everything they lost in Lothering. The Farm, the community they had become part of, all their belongings that could not be carried by hand.

Father.

Hawke closed her eyes sharply, as the unbidden memory came back to the surface. The Greatest man she had ever known, dying from a meaningless brawl with Darkspawn they shouldn't even have been around for. They Should have left Lothering much sooner.

But Father being who he was, he had made them stay and help their friends and refugees flee for as long as possible, until she had finally had had enough and told him they were leaving with or without him.

It had been an ultimatum from a young woman to get her Father to get his ass moving. It had turned out to be the start of her as the Family overhead and Matriarch.

God, matriarch. It still felt so… Bizarre to think of herself as that way, halfway through her twenties was not when she thought she would be settled with a title Generally reserved for grandmothers.

But she had been. Mother had not stepped up, and she had effectively become family leader in both practice as well as name. It still felt so strangely unreal in her own opinion.

Finally, she decided it was time to get going. She got up and quieter than a cat she exited the room. Entering the main room, she saw gamlen's Room off to the Right and up the ladder, but ignored it. Gamlen was a sour, bitter old man, but she didn't really have anything against him. So long as she wasn't stupid enough to trust him with money, she got along well enough with the owner of the house they lived in.

She also let her old Mabari Rest up along the main entrance to the house.

Instead she went from the main room over to the storage room. Well, it was filled with pretty much anything of value they owned which wasn't coin. Swords, daggers, crossbows and bows in various states of disrepair. Armor which were easy to carry, especially lamellar and laminar plates. They had hundreds of those. Incredibly easy to carry in a bag once you cut the cloth binding them together away. If she had done her estimates correctly, there was about 7 sovereigns worth of equipment in this room.

Gamlen wouldn't be able to sell it off, not after what had happened to the last tradesman who had taken armor or arms off him. Direct coin however was much more dangerous to leave in her uncles care.

Ignoring the heavy metal armor, she instead went to a chest filled with a set of leather, cloth and fur. It was as ferelden as it came, and looked as if it could have been the fancier clothing of a lord.

Which is exactly what it was. During her time as a smuggler and burglar, she had once come across a shipment that was meant for Arl Howe of Amarantine. She had unsurprisingly swept the entire cargo, and taken it back home.

Given that, as she had correctly predicted, Howe had been killed eventually and all his goods seized by the crown, she now owned a full set of fancy leather whose owner had gotten his head cut off and wouldn't miss it.

Her family hadn't really been fan of the clothing, and they had ended up selling most of it to deal with their debts, equipment and bribes. She had however kept this one. And to help deal with the massive heat she had gotten it enchanted to help keep her cool in the heat of the free marches.

How anyone could stand living here without the glory that was Self cooling clothing, she would never know.

Along with her leather and Furs, she had gotten out a set of daggers. Other than being red Bloodstone, they were not particularly unique, just two well made blades of blood red metal.

Finally, she got her belt along with it's many pouches, containing health potions, grenades of both the fire and poison variety, and some other stuff.

Finally having all she needed, she looked up. The windows were around 3 meters above. She had done that jump before when she really needed it, but there was a much easier alternative. So she took a running start up towards the corner, then, as a bolt from the spring, she ran, jumped up and hit the wall, not stopping moving as she just jumped again, this time from the wall and up through the window.

Rather than sailing through and out on the streets, she instead grabbed a wooden beam sticking out from an old abandoned wooden construction Tower, and using the momentum she still had, to carry her up and on top of it, in a non completed circle.

The she carefully began to crawl over the protruding beam, unto the roof.

As she came to the other edge, she took a quick look, around the small open space between the houses. The street seemed deserted. No one to see whether she had left. At least none that she could see.

Hoping for the best, she instead began to make her way across the roofs of Lowtown. Lowtown was a misnomer off a name. Even the lowest level of the district was a good 40 meters above the sea, with only the direct harbor district was being on on the Sea level.

No the name instead referred to it's relation to the other part of town. Hightown, up on the giant cliffs which Kirkwall had been carved out off. And a Hightown it truly was. Over a kilometer up from the sea, it towered above everything, a city on a cliff of filthy black stone.

As she made her way across the rooftops, she passed the great furnaces, which the entire Economy of Kirkwall relied on.

Hawke had never really understood WHY Kirkwall had ditched it's status as the greatest producer and exporter of stone in the world, but it had. And in the place of Stone, it now exported the vast majority of Arms and Armor to all of the Free Marches.

One would Think that the biggest producers of Equipment for War on the continent would be able to field a decent Army, but from everything she had seen in her one Year Here, that was about as likely as Andraste coming Back to kick out the Qunari from the North.

Pretty Much all of Kirkwalls government was Shit. It's Armed Forces(She refused to call it an army) was a complete Joke, outside The City Guard, which was competent enough, but also undermanned as fuck, and from what she'd seen, corrupt as all get out.

Without competent Land Forces, the city had lost more and more territory over the Years, until now, when it controlled only the City itself and a small parcel of Land around it. The fact that despite all of this, it was amongst the three most powerful of the Free Marcher Cities along with Starkhaven and Tantervale, spoke leagues of just how deep a rut the marchers were in in the modern Day.

Hawke had been meaning to read up on how the hell the Marches had gone from one of the most prospering places on thedas , to it's current mess.

Back in her old life in the Ferelden army, she had taken pride in knowing exactly how Ferelden had regained it's independence, and what role the army she was part of played in not only retaining that independence, but also in guarding it's roads, keeping the peace and order, and marching out and putting down the odd invasion from the Avvar tribes whenever they got uppity and began to raid into the Ferelden Valley.

However, the life of smuggling, thievery and the occasional looting which was now her existence, did not leave much time to read or study, nor did she have the coin to waste on things such as books.

She had other more life essential things to use them for. Like Bribery in order to stay ahead of the templars.

After maybe 20 minutes of running, jumping and maneuvering under the Moonlight, across the city rooftops, she came to the place she had aimed for.

Lowtown was divided into sections, each one which could easily be closed off from each other. It had always reminded hawke of a fortress city, but not quite.

Gwaren's city harbour had been made so that even if an army invaded, there was very little land between the outermost wall and the water. Not much land for an invader to use when mounting an attack, and while there were buildings, they were all made of wood and could easily be burned in case of a siege, to deny cover.

Kirkwall's harbor however, was made with truly staggering amount of space and buildings between the harbor and the first wall. A gross tactical mistake, which she had never understood.

Even more so, when one knew about the glaring weak spots in every single one of the district walls. Namely the fact that every single one of them had been riddled with openings into the City's underground, locally known as Darktown.

It was to such an opening Hawke had come this night.

The openings into what had once been the City's great mining quarry littered pretty much the entire city, from the sides of the great stairway and down.

Some were boarded up, some had gotten houses built around them by Carta and Coteri Gangs, or Smugglers, all in an effort to establish a monopoly on specific entrances. Some had been cracked down on hard by the City Guard in an attempt to restore order and kill the various enterprises that used them. Others were allowed to remain due to bribes.

The one Hawke was using was one that now you only could get to through the rooftops now. Either by poor planning, or a deliberate move, the alleyway that was around the alley had been closed off over the years, with there now being stone walls on all sides.

Hawke had discovered it during her first few months in Kirkwall, when she had first began to map out the roofs and alleys. The roofs were as spike covered as the rest of the lower city, but despite the constant danger of impalement, she had found the spikes to be a rather good way to recall specific houses and buildings, given that pretty much no spine had weathered the elements the same way, most having rusted away to some degree or another, leading to rust spikes that were all unique and often easy to memorize.

The hole into Darktown was barely hidden at all, with nothing more than a wooden crate with only 3 sides and no top in front of it. Truth be told it served no purpose, but Hawke felt the instinctual need to cover it anyway. As far as she was concerned, it was Her entrance, and she would prefer as few people as humanly possible knew about it.

Once she had gently pushed the remains of the crate aside, and entered into the darkness, she pulled out a series of things from her belt in a quick succession. First a wooden rod, then a piece of cloth along with a string which she wrapped hard and tightly around one side of the rod. Then a small metal jug, whose contents she spilt out over the piece of cloth. Finally a small flintlock device. It took her only one try to get fire going.

Once the homemade Torch was alit, she took it in one hand, while unsheathing one of her daggers in the other.

It was next to impossible to be stealthy carrying a torch in the darkness, so she would need to directly fight if it came to that. Which it probably would, knowing her luck.

Then she descended into the all consuming darkness.

\---

"You think she'll come?" It was a simple question. Answering it one time should have been enough

"Yes, for the love of the Creators, she Will come James. Please stop asking that question."

Apparently not it seemed. The damned Moron that was his partner had asked him that one question maybe 7 times now.

Their employer Murdock ignored the two of them as they talked, as he was wont to do, instead focusing on his little black book. They were waiting on one of his "Beneficiaries", a rogue of some reputation, whose sister was… He honestly didn't know. All he knew was that Murdock knew something about her, and The Rogue; Hawke, paid him a monthly sum not to divulge it further.

And Being a Crazy Dwarf, he had chosen the most insane place to meet her. A part of lowtown that occasionally was infested by giant spiders. They had thankfully not meet a colony of them, but there had been a few of the crawly monsters roaming around, which had had to be dealt with.

His axe still was wet with the blood of the giant arachnids. He shuddered just thinking about it. He never could stand the creatures. By far the creepiest beings the creators had made in the world.

Lamellar was a Dalish elf. Or rather he used to be. He had made the rather massive blunder of fraternising with human women on the clans travels. Which Had not made him popular amongst the clan, but hadn't gotten him kicked out or anything of that magnitude. Then he had made the rather massive mistake of fraternizing with the daughter of a countess of Wycome.

Unsurprisingly, they had been caught in the act, and to save herself, the lady had named it rape and that had been that. His clan had declared him dead them and disavowed his action, as well as hastily leaving the easter Free marches. The countess had gotten him sentenced to castration and then death by breaking on the wheel, a sentence he had only avoided by having a hidden lockpick, and a violent escape by murdering several guards.

After that, he had been a criminal on the run, finally ending up in Kirkwall, finding a Patreon in the Dwarf Murdock. The crazy Dwarf had completely ignored his past so long as he was able and willing to fight and kill for him. Extorsion, murder, thievery, beating up people if they didn't pay up debts. He'd been around the blocks of kirkwall.

He couldn't move in the daytime, but hey, other than that it was a good life.

He'd considered ditching it for the new elvhen state in the Bracilian Forest that had been established after the Blight. But he had decided against it. For one, he didn't believe it would stick around. What had happened to the last attempt was a good warning of what could happen to this one. For another thing, he did not want to risk getting discovered by his old clan, who might instead rat him out to the new King, and from what he had heard about the man, that would probably mean a boat back to Wycome to face the Music.

No thank you. Kirkwall it was.

The White City of chains was the void in general, but for the most part he didn't have anything against his new lot in life. Getting paid to kill and beat up shemlen? Now there was something he could live on.

"She's running a bit late isn't she? She's usually very punctual on her meetings."

Now if only he didn't have to put up with this nitwit Human mage. Arl had been palling around with Murdock since before Lamellar came around to Kirkwall, and by the dreadwolf he had wanted to strangle him since their first meeting.

"She's half an Hour Late, which given the last meeting we had with the Carta ended up being 4 Hours after schedule, isn't bad at all. Now, please, Shut up, i'm trying to read." their employer finally piped in. As he talked he looked down on a small circular device which had a lock on top. He closed said lock and put the device back in his pocket as he resumed reading the small book he always seemed to carry with him.

Handy they were, Time Machines, or Clocks as the dwarves called them. Apparently it was an invention from Orzammar, which Murdock had somehow gotten his hands on. How, he didn't know, nor ask.

Murdock was not a powerfully built dwarf. Instead he was lean and skinny, with a bald head and clean shaven chin. If not for his old face, he might have been confused with a human adolescent.

His clothing was a set of leather with Steel Plates interwoven, and in his belt he carried a Sword.

As for Lamellar and Arl, the two of them wore Lamellar plate Armor and a long steel chainmail respectively. No big, expensive armor for them. Lamellar had his old trusty axe from his Younger days, while Arl carried a staff, the moron that he was. He had never understood why someone who was desperate not to be identified as a mage would carry a mage weapon. Why not a spear? Or better yet a Halberd. It was a staff and axe in one, could a more perfect weapon be imagined?

The three of them were for the moment in a long abandoned room, which Murdock sometimes used as a meeting place. Aside of being really hard to find and a with only one door and containing various chairs and old tables, it was not a room much different than countless others in Lowtown. If he had to guess looking at the old tables and a few(long since looted) drawers and chests, he'd guess this had once been an administrative office while the mines were in use.

With only one door, and a bigger room outside which only had two doors, the other leading to the corridors, this likely had been a gathering place for those in charge.

They waited quietly for a bit more, Murdock reading and occasionally scribbling in that book of his, Arl twitching and nervously scratching his neck like he always did when he was anxious, And Lamellar actually watching the door like he was supposed to.

Then, with no warning they heard the other door, loudly open, and in a flash all three of them tensed. With a loud rusty creaky outer door, it was impossible to get to the door in their room unnoticed. Which was one of the reasons Murdock used this place. It was impossible to enter this inner room stealthily.

Arl, quickly began casting a spell of Haste, to speed up their reflexes and movement speed compared to Hawke in case a fight broke out. Lamellar readied his long axe and shield. Murdock meanwhile looked a bit worried, but made no move to unsheath his blade.

With rather unceremonious movement, the door opened to reveal Hawke as Lamellar had last seen her. Dressed in the leathers and fur of a Ferelden "Barbarian"(why she was supposedly more barbarous than every other just as uncivilized Human he had never understood), with a torch in one hand and a set of blades sheathed in her belt.

Hawke was a rather tall Human, with short black hair which kinda reminded him more of a raven than a hawk, and eyes cold and blue like the Sky. The most notable part of her face was a Red Mark across her face, which he had assumed was warpaint, but it had never changed how it looked at all during any of the times he had seen it. She had a beautiful strong face he supposed, but that mark ruined her as far as he cared.

She stood there for a moment, taking the three of them in, while making no move to attack.

Finally Murdock broke the silence.

"Hawke!" he said with a forced grin. "I'm Glad you Made it, i hope the Spiders didn't give you any trouble."

"Oh it went Well enough." Hawke replied with a much more relaxed smile than Murdock. "They had me Climbing up the walls, to get out of the Sticky fight i had on my hands. I had to use some Poison bombs to deal with them.

He… Never did understand the appeal of Hawke's stupid puns, but he wasn't stupid enough to actually bring it up. He was here to look intimidating and fight if necessary, not to question dangerous people on their shitty jokes.

Murdock apparently felt the same way.

"Good to Hear. I hope the expenses for the Bombs aren't too detrimental for your expenses".

Hawke's eyes narrowed dangerously though her smile did not fade, and for a moment all his muscles tensed in preparation for a fight, but as her hand went to her belt calmly, she did not go for one of her daggers, but instead for a small bag.

She lazily threw it on the table in front of Murdock,who grabbed it immediatly after it hit the table. The unmistakable sound of coins clinking together was heard from inside when it hit the table.

"50 Silvers, as usual. You really don't need to count, but knowing you, you'll do it anyway."

If Lamellar's previous experiences with Hawkes payment meetings was any indication, they really didn't. She always paid, exactly what she promised.

"Maybe not, but i never make exceptions Hawke. Not good for a man in my business you know."

Despite his words, he did not open the bag to begin counting, instead putting the bag on the table.

"One day you decide to skip the actual counting, and what do you know, next month you get a bag of worthless Iron Coins and discover that the guy skipped town the next day."

He shot her a smile which made it obvious he wanted to chat some more about something else.

"So, i hear you've decided to throw your chips in with the Tethras expedition? Not a smart move, i'dd say, but if you wanna throw your life away in the deep roads, i really dont give a shit."

Wait what?

"Oh i'm sure i'll manage. After all, it's just endless tunnels filled with Monsters from the Void. How hard could that be?"

Despite her confident and lackadaisical tone, Lamellar was not daft enough to take that unconcerned confidence seriously. The Deep Roads was a nightmare to delve into. No one who delved into them ever came out.

He'd heard of The tethras Expedition of course, all of Kirkwall had, but people who wanted to get involved were generally sponsors, no one were stupid enough to actually wanna sign on to actually delve into it. The blight was over now, and while there was some time before the monsters fully got back into filling the tunnels in full, surely the vast majority of the horde had gotten back below ground.

No one could possibly be stupid enough to sign on to this thing knowing that there was a huge chance the chance to get in and out without meeting darkspawn had passed.

Apparently Hawke had not gotten this Memo.

Murdock chuckled, and continued.

"That's what i like about you. Confidence and insane bravery. Still, maybe you'll actually come back, who knows?".

His grin faded and was replaced by a melancholic look, as he looked at Hawke.

"Nothing's certain in the world, Hawke. As i've learned to my sorrow."

Hawkes smile faded as well, as she returned his melancholic look. "I'm Sorry to hear about your sons."

Murdock did not answer, and instead sighed. Said sons were supposed to have been the next leaders for their group, but they had gotten their skulls caved in by a carta Brawl last month. It had left a pretty clear question of who would lead after Murdock, a question which seemingly had no answer.

"In all seriousness, Hawke. Do you have any plans for when you come back? Assuming you actually find an unspoiled Thaig, you'll be rich as sin."

"Oh i was thinking of maye buying myself a Dukedom. I hear the Flansene Forest is lovely this time of year."

Murdock chuckled.

"If you wanna follow up a trip to the Blasted deep roads with moving to Demon infested woods, be my guest. But i'm guessing you're gonna be buying back some of the old Amell estates right? Your uncle Lost quite a bit of the Hightown Market. Wouldn't hurt to get back some old land."

Hawke's sly smile was back as she replied "Maybe, but it's not the most pressing thing in the world. After all, it's just stone Buildings. They aren't going anywhere."

"No, probably not. Still, we'll keep doing business i'm sure." Murdock finally began to open the bag, which had been tied hard shut with quite a strong knot, as Hawke usually made.

"So how's that other Sibling of yours? The whining brat?

"Carver? Oh, he's A bit sourely lately, but thats the usual with him. He was sourely the last ten years, he's been sourely this last year and he'll undoubtedly be sour the next decade as well."

If Hawke took any offence to the tone Murdock used to describe her brother she did not show it. From what he had seen the boy was an old grouchy man in the body of a boy just entering manhood. The old storyteller in his clan had been similar, but at least the people he bitched about ruining his life had been long dead.

"Yeah, no doubt. He's got a chip the size of Orzammar, that one. And lazy as a fat cat too. Not a good combination for an up and coming warrior."

He grunted as he began to put some actual power into opening the knot.

"You wanna make something of yourself in this city, you gotta put in the effort. That's… Nrrg… what i like about you hawke. Always putting effort into shit."

The knot finally came undone and the bag opened.

In a burst of sickly green color, the entire half of the room they was engulfed in a thick of green smoke.

Lamellar had been watching Hawke fully and completely. If he had actually paid attention to the bag, his haste enchanted body and reflexes would probably would have managed to leap forward out of the cloud itself. But he hadn't, and he didn't.

Sloppy! Sloppy idiot!!

His lungs burned, like knives were cutting into his lungs, it felt like he had inhaled sharp glass dust. He had gone to his knees, gasping for air all the way. The smoke quickly began to dissipate into the small holes in the wall for ventilation, but that didn't help him much. The pain did not go away.

Across the room, he heard Arl desperately trying to cast spell, despite the wretched sound of what the gas had done to his throat.

"THUNK"

The sound of Arl hitting the floor followed.

Lamellar forced himself to look in the direction of where Arl had stood, despite the pain which seemed to be cleaving his skull into pieces from the sheer agony.

The PAIN! THE DREAD TAKE THE PAIN!

Arls dead face looked stared into his direction, seeing nothing. A dagger had embedded itself into his forehead, thrown with such force it had gone all the way to the crossguard.

His eyes went to Hawke. The bitch stood calmly on the other side of the large room. Far out of the range of her own poisonous grenade.

As they writhed in pain on the floor, the Bitch was watching them trying to cough up their own lungs, she calmly waited, until the smoke had dissipated entirely.

Then she began walking towards Murdock. Lamellar desperately tried to grip for his axe which had dropped when the pain took over all his thoughts. He had to find his axe.

His hand grabbed over the floor desperately, where was his axe? He had to find it, had to protect Murdock. His hand clenched around a pole. There!

With the final ounces of strength, he shot up, and with all his force he wrenched the axe from the floor, back over his head, and then in a power overhead swing he brought it down on that treacherous Bitch's head!!!

Or at least he tried to. Hawke didn't even bother to side step, or step backwards to avoid the blow. And she hadn't needed to either. In his pain, his aim had completely gone off and he had brought the axe down half a meter in front of Hawke.

Other than cutting air and cleaving a bit of stone on the ground, it had done precisely no damage.

Hawkes leg connecting to his face did considerably more however.

He crashed on his back, having gone straight down. For a moment the world went silent, only ringing noise in his ears. Then everything returned, the PAIN. Now added by even more so as he had even more difficulty breathing. The kick had broken his nose. The pain from that would probably be staggering, but right now the pain from his burning lungs overrode anything else. The closed airway of his nose, just made it worse.

As he writhed on the ground, in a fit of the most searing pain he could imagine, the voice of Murdock suddenly came back.

"YOU…. Ferelden… Cunt…" Between each word he gasped for air,but the words came out clearly enough. Those dwarven lungs sure was something.

Hawke evidently felt the same way.

"Oh you can still talk? Impressive. I've never tried this mixture on Dwarves before, it would seem it's nowhere near as effective as it is on elves, and humans"

"You…. Fu...Fucking..Bitch… you… Wont… get…Away…. with….this…"

Hawke chuckled in a way which did not not seem appropriate for murdering three men.

"Oh, i rather rather doubt that. I liked your sons well enough Murdock, but truth be told, those were the only ones who you confided shit in. I followed and watched you enough to know that. I very much doubt the rest of your gang know why i paid money to you."

A short pause followed, then the sound of pages being flipped slowly.

"That's the problem with keeping all your secrets in on Box, Murdock. It's Sooo easy to get rid off. Oh, my these are a lot of apostates you blackmail for silence, and… And a templar family as well? My what would the order say?"

The sound of something burning intensified for a moment.

"Your knowledge of my sister, was the only thing i feared about your gang Murdock. I never dared to kill you before in case one of your boy's managed to blab to the templars before i tracked them down. With their death, i just had to deal with you. Now with you gone, i can safely hunt down your little group as i please, without worrying about information being leaked before i'm done with all of them."

"I mean, really Murdock? Did you think this little relationship of ours was going to end any other way? I've been wanting to do this for half a year now."

The quick sound of a dagger being unsheathed was followed by another "THUNK".

Then, footsteps towards Lamellar.

He forced himself up as best he could, gasping for air all the way. He managed to weakly prop himself up on his elbows, so he wasn't completely flat on his back.

He stared hatefully up at the face of the Ferelden Dog Lord, and tried to at least curse her if he couldn't do anything else.

"Crrrst… Urrr.. . Crrt…"

The Bitch Chickled.

"Not the most inspiring words, Lamellar Verdun."

He blinked in shock despite the pain.

"Yes i know who you are, Verdun. You're the elf who raped lady Rebecca of Wycome."

Seriously? Now in his last moments he was going to be accused of that old bloody lie? Not even in his final moments could he escape that fucking accusation.

The red blade shined in the torchlight. Then it came down.

\---

After she finished up looting the bodies, hawke made sure both the doors would remain open by putting some debris in front of them. That way, the spiders would not have anything stopping them from getting in. She had paralyzed the three she had come across with a paralyzing poison bomb instead of just killing them. Just so they would clean up after her once they regained mobility.

The scent of blood was thick in this area, they would come quickly enough after the toxin wore off.

With a bag slung over her shoulder, and a renewed torch in her other hand, she began the trek out of the mountain and back to the city.

The loot had been pitifully small. She'd given murdock around 5 sovereigns over the course of his blackmail, and in the end she'dd only found a whole 77 silvers on the three in total.

At least the rapist elf had been kind enough to wear lamellar armor, whose pieces made up the bulk of what was in the bag. Other than that, she'd found a few trinkets on the three of them.

Murdock had a couple of silver rings she could probably sell for a bit, the Elf had an axe, whose head she'd taken along with the lamellar pieces and the mages Chainmail.

The mage also had a small locket with a drawn picture in it of a family. She'd left that, however small a comfort it would have been for his soul, what with his body about to be devoured by giant spiders.

She'd felt somewhat bad for him. Probably just some poor schmuck apostate who worked for murdock for protection. The elf was a convicted rapist, and She had been planning to jam a dagger in Murdocks forehead from the start of his blackmail.

This was how it worked in Kirkwall though. When a crime group threatened you and yours, you wiped them out to the man. Else they resurfaced later to take revenge. She'd had that happen…. 10.. 12 times? Carver had gotten a spear through the gut the last time, and bethany had almost gotten an axe to the face the time before that.

She was not planning on it happening again.

The only piece of loot of real value had been the small Time Machine she had found in Murdocks pocket. It was a handy thing probably worth 3 sovereigns all on it's own, but she wasn't planning on selling it.

That thing would be so bloody useful for her going forward, there was no way she was selling the time machine for any sum.

Well, unless if someone would buy it for more than 10 sovereigns she supposed. It was useful, but if someone was willing to cash out that much for it, she would sell it.

After walking for what felt like ages, she finally came to her hole, and pushed the box out and out of the way. The night was nearing it's end, but the sun had not risen yet. Though the color of the sky was brightening.

Better hurry home then.

After closing back the hole, and some acrobatics to get back up on the roofs, she began her trek across the spike covered roofs back to Gamlen's house.

As she finally came to her home street, the sun finally came up in the east, turning the city to a sand colored mess of buildings.

Once upon a time this city had been a beautiful snow white, the White City of Chains. A pretty cage for a gathering of slaves the world had never seen the likes off, and hopefully never would again.

She looked out over it, and took in the sight. Down below her, the massive Harbour was filled with hundreds of Ships, all arrayed from east to west in a bulwark of wood. Massive War Galleys of the Kirkwall Navy, the smaller Cogs of the fishermen, Great trading ships from Rivain, the Ferelden Longships with their snakelike hulls, the Tevinter Dromonds with the tubes of bronze for raining death upon their enemies, the Antivan Carrack unmatched in height.

It was a sea of color and banners, as flags flew in the blowing wind, each proudly declaring to whom their captains declared their allegiance. The High Lords said it was the never stopping furnaces of war, which was Kirkwalls heart. And maybe that was so, but it was this Harbour which was the source of all it's Wealth.

From here, goods came and went, arms and armor went out and in flowed everything under the sun. Food, silks, leather, wine, poison, ingredients, cloth, wood, enchanted goods, trinkets and baubles.

Kirkwall had lost almost all it's territories outside the city Walls, yet somehow it still remained one of the greatest and richest Cities in the World. And all of it was thanks to this massive Harbour, guarded against the storms by it's tall outlying islands, yet still accessible from west, south and East.

It truly was the perfect spot for a Harbour.

The city around it did not fare nearly as well. Lowtown was a mess all around, with no wall directly by the sea to protect it, small, narrow twisting and confusing roads, and clustered buildings with no planning whatsoever.

Which was ironic, because the city had been made in what had originally been a very well planned out and consistent manner, where every single district was laid out in a nice orderly manner.

Connecting Lowtown to it's High Counterpart, was the great stairway as it was called, a massive set of incredibly big, wide and monumental Stairs, hewn out of the mountain side.

These massive stairs led up to the eastern part of Hightown. While not small by any means, the part of the city on the eastern side of the river, was only a third the size of western Hightown. It was mostly where the City's food storages were, as well as storages.

On the other side of the massive bridge across the river, was the True Hightown. White, and monumental, with tall(very unnecessarily so, considering how unlikely a direct attack from the air was.) white walls, and towers the likes of which Hawke had only seen surpassed by Fort Drakon of Denerim. It was a truly majestic sight, and the Viscount's keep was a Citadel worthy a King.

Pity then that the Viscount was a weak, vasslating idiot. Not quite a leader worthy of the keep.

To the right was the Grand Chantry of Kirkwall, but she ignored it. The maker was in every chantry, and to be blunt, she had never understood why this one was somehow better than any other due to size. Not to mention it had once been the estate of a slaving tevinter magister.

One would think the Chantry could have had a new and less charged building used for the City's religious center, but apparently not.

Finally, there was the Gallows, the island fortress which dominated the bay of Kirkwall. It was a good strong fortress, which Hawke's only problem with it, was it's current occupiers, namely the Templar Order.

A place to avoid like the plague.

Finally, she decided she had gotten enough of the view, and like a bolt, she made the jump and acrobatics to enter the house.

She needed to get a few hours nap before the Big Day. Today, she was joining on unto an expedition which would bring Wealth on the level which would fix all her woes.


	2. The Meeting

"NO"

Well that answer was as clear as it could be.

The three of them, Hawke, Bethany and Carver had made the long, boring and arduous journey up the accursed steps from lowtown to Hightown(why they hadnt installed a lift system, Hawke would never understand.) to meet their business contact, the man responsible for the planned journey into the deep roads.

Barthrand Tethras, one of the most famous and successful business men in Kirkwall.

He had been less than enthusiastic to see them, or hear about their offer to join on as armed hands.

"Andraste's Tits human, you know how many people wanna hire on to this expedition?"

They had meet Barthand as he was walking through the dwarven Section of Hightown, and approached him on his walk. His complete disinterest in any of them, was a bit of a surprise, given they had been invited to speak with him by a letter from his estate signed Tethras.

Either that had been a prank Letter or something more sinister was going on. As Carver tried to play the diplomat, Hawke already began to take in the buildings and street. No convenient back alleys for assassin's to hide in here, unlike lowtown. All the roads were wide enough for a 5 Carts to comfortably move side by side with more than room to spare. Quite a step up from Lowtown she had to say.

The men were not particularly threatening either. There were a couple of guards, but other than that the only one she saw with weapons was a bodyguard for some noble, and a Dwarf with a scar across her face from the top of her head to the bottom of her jaw. She recognized her as Carta. The woman looked wearily at Hawke but made no move to approach or attack.

This is the sort of venture that can make a man for life! I'm not about to take any chances hiring random humans along.

"Look." Carver began his appeal. "We know youre going into the Deep Roads, and you'll need to hire the best,and we're-"

Barthrand finally had enough and spun on his heels as he stopped flat in his movement.

"NO!" He repeated in a tone that made it clear that as far as he was concerned this little chat was done.

He spread his hands to his sides open palmed as if he was making a speech to someone standing above him and continued.

"You're too Late. Already done."

Carver, however refused to give up so easily. And being Carver he inserted his foot in his mouth the moment he began to talk.

"The money from this trip could fix Everything! You need us, we've fought Darkspawn! "

Judging by him pinching his brow hard as Carver talked, She could tell he was not impressed by carver talking about how desperate They were and needed this money. Neither was she to be honest. When you negotiated with someone you never revealed how badly you depended on them.

"Look precious, i don't care if you tore the Horns of an ogre with your Bare hands."

Well, even she couldn't make that claim, she had indeed killed an ogre once but that was with a knife through its brain. Impressive enough on it's own, but obviously they needed more than deed of arms(And Totally unprovable claims of said deeds) to win this battle.

Carver threw up his hands. "Fine, you Make him understand, Sister, you're the one who dragged us here after all."

Well, she couldn't exactly fuck this up worse than carver, it was worth a try.

"You're obviously sceptical, so how about we get to know each other first. Before we make any deals. I'll buy you a drink while we chat. Everyone wins."

Ok, so that was pathetic, but Carver had given her an abysmal hand to work with.

Barthrand obviously agreed. He snorted. "Get in line human, half of Kirkwall wants to be my best friend right now."

He looked Hawke in the eyes, contemptuous and annoyed, then his expression changed, into something one could call melancholic.

"You're looking for a quick way out of the slums right? Just like every other Ferelden in this Dump.

He looked Hawke in the face, but it was obvious to her he didn't see her. He was thinking of something else, days gone by most likely.

The moment ended as quickly as it had began,with his eyes focusing again on her face with with the same contemptuous anger.

"Find another meal ticket."

At that he walked past them without a word. The only thing that could have made that more definite would have been if he made a rude gesture as he walked away.

"Well." Hawke filled the awkward silence that followed as all three of them just looked after Barthrand. "That could have gone better."

"Great." Carvers expression looked like that of a sullen boy who just got thrown out in rain to do some work outside.

"Back to waiting for someone to turn us in i guess."

"What are we going to do now?" Bethany piped in, voice nearing a breaking point. The poor girl had desperately wanted this venture to succeed. Unlike Carver who just followed her lead, she had been eager when Hawke brought up the business venture for the family.

Which in turn had just made her way more invested into this thing than Carver had been.

"We've got nothing to stop the next person who tries to sell us out. This expedition was our last chance…"

She trailed off, looking at Hawke desperately, hoping her big sister would have anything to say to put her mind at ease.

She gave her a big smile and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry bethany, i won't let any big bad templars come get you."

The tone was warm and cheerful, and honest. She would kill every templar in this city before she let them put a finger on her baby sister.

Bethany however, didn't see it that way.

"It's not a joke!"

Before Hawke could reply that it wasn't a joke, she continued on.

"If the bloody templars find me, the best i can hope for is them locking me up for the rest of my Life! If they don't just kill me outright! The stories about Meredith are…. Just awful."

Awful indeed. Hawke wasn't sure what rumors Bethany had heard, but she had a couple of contacts in the Gallows. Meredith, was a monster, the absolute worst kind of bitch that the templars were so proud to breed.

Five months prior, the Commander of Kirkwalls Templars had learned of some secret letters between a woman and a young mage barely of manhood, secretly passed along by a templar. In response to this little love affair She had gelded the boy's mind as punishment and thrown the templar out of the order. The woman had disappeared with no trace, most likely murdered on the commanders orders.

She laid her hands on Bethany's shoulder with a calm, soothing grip.

"I'm not joking Bethany, i'm not going to let any Templar do anything to you."

"We need more than empty promises Sister." Carver butted in.

"You have a grand plan to get us out of this mess i hope? Your grand plan to get on to the expedition was a bust. What's plan B?"

His tone and look was annoyed, but she knew Carver enough to know he cared about this. A lot.

"Well, i have some. But we should probably discuss them back home. Not here on the open street."

They weren't close enough to anyone that there was any obvious eavesdroppers(thankfully, or Bethany's little outburst would have meant they would have to skedaddle the city entirely.

"It's going to be fine Bethany, i promise."

The young apostate mage did not seem convinced, but she gave a weak nodd.

"let's go home, then we can talk more."

After that they began to walk, back the long tiring way they had come up here through.

As they walked Hawke was looking over towards the exit of the Dwarven quarter, she took in the look of Hightown more. Oh, it was well laid out.

Like the original Lowtown, the groundwork had been excellent. In the Case of Western Hightown, the portion of the City had used a Grid System, with the main centers and exceptions to the symmetrical layout being the Viscounts Keep and the Grand Chantry. Other than those two sore spots, it was a great layout.

Unlike Lowtown however, the main problem now was not countless new building cluttering up the original designers groundwork, but a complete lack of Upkeep.

The ground was missing several tiles, many of the tiles still there had cracks, weed stuck up a lot in between, and the entire City's Marble was uncleaned pretty much everywhere that private Citizens did not own and clean their own building entrances.

It was a complete worn down mess, a visible sign that even amongst the Elite of this City, the White City was in immense decline.

She was too busy glowering over the scenery, that she didn't even notice anything amiss before Carver suddenly jelled out "HEY!"

Her head snapped back towards the the rest of the party, just quickly enough to catch a man with red hair, dressed in poor clothing running as fast as he could away from them and towards the closest turn in the roads.

He carried a small red pouch in his right hand, which she recognized as Carver's money pouch.

With no further talk she vaulted after him. In the blink of an eye, her Knife Was drawn. She considered nailing him in the back of the knee with a throw, but decided against it. He was too close to the turn in the road, she might miss as he turned the corner.

She would turn said corner and THEN nail him in the back.

The two other followed after her, but neither of them could keep up with her when she really ran.

As she rounded the corner, and readied her knife for the throw, the thief kept running, but turned halfway to see if they were following. An obvious mistake. The guy was new at this.

Then out of the blue, a mechanical "Thud" sounded, and the thief was slammed up against the wall.

Hawke blinked.

No not slammed. Dragged. A crossbow bolt had taken him straight in the shoulder. Or rather the cloth part of the man's tunic. The Bolt had gone straight into the wall. A metal tip above steel quality then. A precise shot,not to have gone through the mans flesh.

As the pickpocketer struggled to pull out the bolt, the man who had fired it stepped out of shadows of a small courtyard. The shooter was a remarkably finely dressed and groomed dwarf, with pulled back dirty blonde hair that ended in a short ponytail, Brown eyes, and a charming self confident smile which seemed to scream Smoothness.

His dress was a good quality leather coat of a variety which she recognized as being distinctly Kirkwall in the way it was made. Not Antivan Leather then.

Under said coat he wore a fine red Shirt, with a fine colden trimmed pattern. The buttons on said shirt(which was open up top, showing a truly impressive mane of chest hair.) was made of gold, which would have screamed richness even if nothing else did. It didn't stop there though. Around his waist was a fine green silken sash, in his ears, he wore 2 golden earings on the right side and one on the left. Finally around his neck he wore a necklace she vaguely recalled as being the style of Orzammar.

Maker almighty, how long had it been since she had been outside of Orzammar? It had only been 2 years now, yet it felt like a different age now.

As he walked across the street up to the thief he sheathed his crossbow in a holster across his back. It looked like an impressive thing, and very mechanical, though that was a field where her expertise did not reach however. She had no idea of the extra stuff actually did anything or not. Beyond looking impressive anyway.

"I knew a guy once who could every coin out of your pocket just by smiling at you, but you? You don't have the style to work hightown, let alone the merchants guild."

Andraste, Even his voice was smooth. He sounded like how old King Maric had sounded, back in the day before he died. Just with more confidence.

The Dwarf reached out a hand for the money pouch which the thief hesitantly handed him.

"Might wanna to find yourself a new line of work."

Then he punched the thief thief right in the face with a hook. As the man hang limply for a second, after taking the blow to the head, the Dwarf ripped out the bolt from the wall with a nonchalant, but firm pull, and let the man fall to his knees with only the comment "Off you go." as he walked away.

As he walked up to them he nonchalantly threw the pouch to hawke who snatched it before the arc even turned down.

"How do you do?" he asked with a grin, as he twirled the bolt around in his fingers in a move hawke had seen way too many crossbowmen learn in a desperate attempt to look cool and impressive.

The Bolt had an Obsidian tip(the metal, not the stone.), a valuable and good material, yet not as extravagant as the rest of his clothing. She had honestly expected Silverite or Veridium. The dwarf might be more practical than his loud outfit would have him seem.

"Varric tethras at your service!" the Dwarf Finally introduced himself, With a polite bow of the head as he put the bolt back in his back holster.

"Daemona Hawke, but i'm sure you already knew that." she replied with a courteous nod, a smile finally reaching her lips. The moment she heard his name, a number of Questions were finally falling into place.

The dwarf finally turned somewhat serious as he began the chat in earnest.

"I apologize for Barthrand, he wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

"But you would?"

"I would!" He answered enthusiastically, with a gesture of hands wide, raised towards her. It was apparently a common way for dwarves to show appreciation for humans here in Kirkwall.

"What my brother don't realise is that we need someone like you! He would never admit it either, he's too proud." he made a quick pointed thumb motion sideways towards the direction Bartrand had gone.

"I, however, am quite practical."

So, there was actually a chance this whole adventure might actually happen after all.

"You're the one who sent the letter asking us to come meet Barthrand i take it?"

The Dwarf gave a shit eating grin.

"Guilty as charged."

"Wait." Carver butted in. "You were the one who sent us that letter? Then why didn't you arrange to meet us yourself, instead of sending us to talk to your twat of a brother?"

Ah, there was carver with his trademark Diplomacy. Fortunately, Varric didn't seem to mind his kin being insulted.

"That was the plan actually. You would meet the doorguard to our Home, who would send a runner to me, then we could Talk privately before i brought the venture to Barthrand."

He waved a dismissive gesture.

"Unfortunately, Barthrand suddenly had some business which had him running to the other side of Hightown talk to someone, And… Well, he ran into you two on the way, and here we are."

So shitty luck then. Her life in a nutshell the past two years. Well, no use moaning about it, time to get this Hunt going.

"I'm Going to make a wild guess, that you are part of Barthrands venture right?"

"That's right, the deep roads wouldn't normally my thing, but i cant let the head of our Family to go down there alone."

"So as you might imagine, i have more than a passing interest in this expeditions success."

So, basically he was the opposite of her then, a second Child with the drive to make things work,and the ambition to make things happen. The thoughts of comparing him to Carver in Detail crossed her mind, but she dismissed the idea for now. There was more important things to worry about.

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but You're going awfully far out of your way to hire just another set of guards. Even if that set includes me."

"Oh we don't need another hireling."

"We need a partner."

"Truth is, Barthrand has been pulling his beard out trying to fund this expedition on his own, but the truth is he cant do it."

She was starting to see where this was going, and she was not exactly thrilled about the idea. But she would let Varric finish before she gave her thoughts on the matter.

"So that's where you come in. Invest in the expedition. Fifty Sovereigns, and he cant refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you."

Ah, yes. Fifty Sovereigns. He might as well have asked her to go Conquer Orlais. That seemed about as likely to happen as her taking the around 7 sovereigns worth of shit she had stashed along with her 4 sovereigns and 62 Silver and increasing it sixfold.

She was about to open her mouth when Carver once again butted in.

"You'd do that? Stick your neck out to your Brother for a complete stranger?"

His tone was bewildered, as if he couldn't imagine trusting anyone outside family that much.

Varric's reply was smooth, like his hair.

"Oh, I'd rather take a chance on someone with Hawke's reputation than head down into the deep roads unprepared."

"And besides" he Gave them a smile and a wink "We'd be partners. I'm willing to give a little trust if you are."

Carver looked as if he had eaten a Lemon again, at that response.

"What, you haven't heard of the two of us at all?"

"Oh there's talk around the Town of the trio of siblings from Ferelden, but it's the dashing Rogue with the red Mark, Who's on everyone's lips these Days."

"That Figures." Carver said Bitterly.

"Frankly, i'dd rather Daemona Take all the credit." Bethany added.

Then, as Carver scowled at her for that response, Bethany decided that she too would but in with questions.

"Master Tethras, don't take this the wrong way, but Your brother doesn't seem like the sort to split profits. Would he really be willing to go through with this deal?

"Oh, my brother is many things, Sunshine, but he's not stupid. Far better to share the profits than to be trapped in a thaig with a thousand Darkspawn between you and the exit. Trust me. He'll come around."

Finally, Hawke decided to speak up with the question that actually mattered,before her younger siblings asked more questions.

"I hope there is more to this, like how i'm gonna get that much coin together."

"You need to think big. There's only a brief window after blight when the Deep roads won't be crawling with darkspawn. The treasure we find down there would be enough to set you and your family up for life."

"So, here's the deal, We work together, you and i, a couple of big jobs, and before you know it, You'll have all the Capital you need. What do you say?"

His smooth voice made it sound so bloody simple.

"I assume you have contacts i can use for this?" She asked, desperately hoping the answer was yes. If it was not yes, then this entire thing was doomed to failure from the Start.

"I know everyone in the city worth knowing. I can help you find big Jobs and small jobs. Anything you need to get the capital together, and if you don't need me for that… there's always bianca.

He pointed a finger at the seemingly advanced crossbow. So he named it after a woman. No shame in that, Carver had named his first blade Peaches after that girl he had been seeing "secretly" behind Barlin's shed. That said blade broke in the first fight against the Darkspawn was probably a sign that it was not meant to be.

As for his offer… well, it was either that, or go back to her alternative plan of gambling it all on a trade venture. The image of how quickly Gamlen had fallen putting his money into that pot came unbidden to her mind. Still there was one thing she needed to know still.

"I'm assuming that if i say yes, then i asume there's is a deadline for when i must have the money ready?"

"Oh, that. Yes, there is a deadline. Two months from now on, is the last point Barthrand is willing to go down there. Any later, and he won't risk it. We're already past the best change, during and right after the blight itself."

Made sense. Also, she'd have to kick up things up a notch if she was to actually make that happen in time.

Still, she could make it happen.

Maybe. Possibly.

"All right, i'll take the deal."

Varric smiled satisfied at her. "Perfect. Do you have anything planned, or do you want me to dig up a job for you? I have several big guys who would be interested in hiring someone of your talents."

Was that so? Well, she would go to those guys later. For now, she had something else planned. She had planned to let this go, but if Varric's network was as good as he claimed… Well she could do this then.

"No i have another Job planned. One which you could help with actually."

She motioned towards the Grand Chantry, which was easily visible from here.

"Tell, me, what do you know of Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven, ward of the Chantry."

"He's that guy in the shining white armor right? The one with Andraste's Face over his Pelvis? I've seen him around sometimes. Why?"

She smiled a wolf like grin.

"Well, as it happens his family was murdered Recently By the Flint Company."

"You're talking about the Mercenary Company, and not the guys making fire making Tools right? I kinda have difficulty imagine Barthand ordering a Royal family executed."

"Wait." Carver interjected. "Your Brother owns the Flint Making Company?"

"My family owns a lot of things Little Hawke." He replied in a cheery tune.

"In any case, he's paying a bounty for the heads of every single one of the Bastards who killed his family. Sooo… how about we take care of that?"

"We go take the head off some baby killers, bring back the heads and insignias back to the House of our Prince of Risque Imagerie, get royally rewarded, and have some drinks celebrating what good people we are?"

He gave her a sly knowing smile.

"Sounds good. I'm guessing you don't actually know where this Mercenary Company is right now, do you?"

"No idea whatsoever. But i'm sure you can find out for me."

He chuckled. "I'll see what i can do. Just give me some time"

"You Familiar with the Hanged Man? I'm assuming so, given you live literarly just down the street from it."

"The hanged man? You mean that filthy bar with wine that tastes like orlesian piss?"

Carver liked to visit that place when she gave him some cash to get drunk. He'd come home 2 times stark naked after a night of drinking there. The boy really had the worst taste in… everything.

"The one and Only. My home away from home."

The smile he had as he talked of the place reminded her uncomfortably of how mother had used to describe Kirkwall before Father died. He idealized the place. Why only the Maker knew, but she didn't really care about that right now.

"Anyway, hit me up there 2-3 hours after sunset, and i'll have some info on the Flint's for you."

"Until then, Hawke. Sunshine. Little Hawke."

Varric then gave a nod to each of them and a wave as he walked away.

Carver's waited until the Dwarf was fully out of earshot, before he began talking.

"Sister, are you-"

"Quiet Carver, i'm thinking."

A ton of thoughts went through her mind. She needed to get a lot of shit done before tonight. Firstly she needed to finish up the business she started with Murdocks gang. She needed to remove them completely so she didn't have to worry about them coming back to bite her while she was doing this.

Secondly, she needed to get the armor pieces sold. A deadline wasn't good for that. Armor sold best on demand. If you had to sell it on the spot with no time to wait for changing fortunes and demand, it was worth a lot less.

Then she had other shit to prep, like how she would fit Her meet ups with Aveline into this whole thing.

She wouldn't be free for this thing tonight, but maybe she could chat tomorrow? She sure hoped so. Aveline was much better to have on her side and back than Carver. He wasn't bad, just not that spectacular. Right now she needed spectacular.

"You two are going to spend the day selling the armory. Go to lowtown and sell it one bag at a time. Don't go two bags at once, that will just make it obvious we're desperate for sellers."

Carver was incredulous.

"What, ALL of it? That's a bloody 13 bags of armor youre talking about."

"What about the weapons?" Bethany piped in "Should we sell the weapons today too?"

"No we can sell that later, one on one buyers. It's always easier to get a weapons sold rather than armor. We don't need to clear it out as quickly as the armor. We need those sold now."

"Still, ALL of them? We spent a bloody year collecting all of that and selling the stuff carefully over time, and now you just wanna clear it out as soon as we can, damn the Price we get?"

"Yes Carver, we need money now, not a year from now. Oh, and Also, this probably goes without saying, but when i say all the armor i'm not including your personal stuff. Just wanted to clarify that."

"I'm not a bloody Simpleton Sister."

"Good to know. Then i'll meet you back at Gamlens Place once you're done."

"Also, if you get home before me, get some rest. We'll be staying up all night,best to grab some shuteye while you can. "

As she turned and began to walk towards the closest exit to Darktown she knew, she heard Groaning from the two siblings. They were not fond of all nighters.

Neither of them were built for this life to be honest. Carver was as if made for the simple life of a Grunt. Then He'd lost his chance at that life at Ostagar. Now he could do nothing but follow her lead. Just like he had done all his life despite all his grumbling.

As for Bethany… WeWell if they actually managed to make it rich, she'd probably be that Noble Lady Mother had always wanted them to be. That was never going to happen with her, that was for sure. But Bethany might manage it. Thrive in it even. She would also be able to never use her magic outside the deepest places of their home.

She had learned the lesson of the need for secrecy well. She'd meet mages who just couldn't do it. They had to just go outside and… Do something with their magical talents. That was not something Bethany would ever do though thankfully.

She finally came to the place, and sighed as she felt the smell of blood. It was going to be a long day.


	3. The First Night

The Hanged man. A den of drunkards and gamblers, where honest people came to do crazy, desperate and embarrassing things, which the awful wine would help them forget about the day after. Mixed in with those were everything from corrupt guards to smugglers to Mercenaries.

And of course there was the Loud Drunks. There was never a night where some fool didn't get piss drunk and become the center of attention for anyone new to the bar.

Like Right now on the barstool, some drunk Ferelden was making an ass of himself trying to woo Norah, one of the waitresses, with a song about some Ferelden Hero named Knut. Her unimpressed stoneface did not seem to deter him.

All Across the room, the smell of burned meat(Oxen today) and the smell of Ale, both spilled on the floor and on the tables mixed and hung clearly.

Really, though, it might be seedier and filthier than other Pubs and Taverns, but it wasn't the interior which made the Hanged Man stand out amongst the countless others of it's kind in the White City of chains.

No, that was it's people.

In the Corner close to the door, a cloaked lady who wanted the mess with Unflagged Kirkwall ships attacking Amaranthine vessels from Ferelden dealt with.

On another table a Woman who was part of the… Well he supposed terrorist group would be the best way to describe The Friends Of Red Jenny. Though from what he had heard and seen, they seemed to be a weirdass mix of thieves, pranksters, assassins and spies.

Either way, she had been looking for people to deal with the various Night Gangs who all tried to establish themselves in Kirkwall, each thinking they would succeed and rule the streets at night where the hundreds of gangs before them had all failed.

And by the bar there was a couple of pirates who was looking for someone to help their boss get some loot back which he had lost to some raiders.

As he had said to Hawke, this city had dozens of people who were willing to pay gold for someone with the skill to solve their problems, so long as you knew where to look. Or had a large spy network to do so for you, that worked too.

Roland drank a full tankard of ale in one go, before he continued his report.

"Yeah, they're out on the wounded coast alright." he pointed to a point on the map, a small fjord. "Here, it's not large enough to be on the map, but there's this small cove here, in the fjord itself. That's where the Soldiers are hiding." He took a draught from the second tankard Varric had prepared for him.

Varric himself never drank anything from the Hanged man itself, but it made other people nervous and suspicious when you sat there with nothing in your hands, so as usual, he had ordered a wine glass.

Roland on the other hand did drink here. He had to, he said. Drink was the only thing that helped when the cramps, and shivering were at their worst he claimed.

The Ex-Templar put down his half drunk tankard as he continued his tale.

"14 men, all well armored and well armed, Lameller and chainmail though, no proper plate. So whatever they are, they're not knights. And if i'm right, they're planning to stay for a while. They've got a fortified camp set up and everything."

"Anything else, i should know about? Traps, mages, Mabari, Blood Mages maybe?".

"No, no mages, blood or otherwise. Too heavy armor. It's not so easy to spot whether there is a mage in a group, but it's bloody easy to spot when there is none. You see-"

At that point he was interrupted by a guy entering the Bar entrance and yelling out "Varric Tethras? Has anyone seen Varric Tethras here? Brother of Barthrand Tethras?".

The man in question was a young dwarf in fine livery, and with a nervous expression as if he feared getting jumped and shivved at any moment. Which probably explained his reluctance to enter the bar proper, with him just standing in the doorway.

That was one of the two reactions the messengers had when they came to this place. Terror at the possibility of being jumped, or disgust at how filthy the place was. Or both.

"Never heard of him." The chorus from the pub rang out. The messenger from the Merchants guild, stood there for maybe 10 seconds more, his want to go into the pub and look for himself clearly fighting against his self preservation instincts of not walking into Dens of unfamiliar strangers. The fear won, and he left with the haste of a cat just having been caught in the pantry. A barmaid went and slammed the door shut behind him.

The Room went back to normal as if nothing had happened.

"Does… Does that happen often?" Roland asked with a puzzled expression.

"About 3 times a day, or so. At least Once every night. But we were talking about how to pick out mages in a crowd of soldiers. So…"

He poured more Ale into Rolands Tankard. "How do you do it?"

"Right, right." the shaking of his hands was back again, and he took another draught before he continued.

"The key is the armor. Mages don't wear true plate armor, unless they are Knight Enchanters from Orlais, and those guys are never outside the bloody Imperial Court. You don't see those as mercenaries or bandits."

"You see, plate armor interferes with the Mana Mages release when they casts spells, which makes it insanely hard for them to use magic. They need air ways to release it through, hence why almost all mages wear robes, or cloth, and if they have to go into real combat they wear Chainmail."

"It's like how men in plate need air in under the hot sun or they die of heatstroke. Just you know… instead the mages are suffocated by the mana residue which builds up under the plate, until it's too much and then Boom, that's the end of them."

"So the Perfect Analogy then. Obviously. So how does Knight Enchanters deal with it then? Knowing Orlais it something fancy and extravagant."

Roland Chuckled. "You'd think so but it's generally just the mage equivalent of Breathing techniques. They train so that the mana they expend forms outside the armor, not directly outside the skin. It's needs iron discipline and…. Okay, maybe that's not the best analogy."

Putting it lightly.

"Keep working on them, you'll get one right someday."

"Right…" He drank another draught. Given how many he tended to down, it was amazing he wasn't constantly drunk off his ass.

After looking down on his cup for a bit, he looked up and looked at varric with a genuine, Concerned look.

"You… You're not actually going down into the deep roads are you Varric?"

"Sure am."

"Don't go." He downed the rest of his Tankard.

"I don't know if you're just going for the dream of riches like that Bastard Brother of yours, or if you're tired of Kirkwall and want some variety. But seriously, DONT GO."

"No one comes back from the Deep roads. If your Brother is so damned set on Going, let him go by himself, then take over the Family once he's gone."

Ah, becoming family overhead, what a thought. Being responsible for the entire House, dealing with the Merchant Guild every day, marrying some Girl from another house and spend the rest of his life stuck in a miserable relationship…

In response to Roland he just gave a smile and shook his head.

"So how's the official odd's? Last i heard the Coterie had fifteen on one odds that we won't come back again."

"It's seventeen to one now."

He snorted "Really? Maybe i should get someone to bet for me, i'd earn a fortune to add on top of the expedition itself."

Roland gave him a melancholic look, shook his head and stood up.

"We'll talk later, i… I need to go lie down."

Then he left and went towards his room into the inner depths of the Hanged Man, leaving Varric alone to contemplate his drink.

While he settled in to wait for the Star of the evening, he tried to think up a story. Something to pass the time. His Last serial had ended not so long ago, and he was ready to start something new.

Maybe he should try an entirely new genre, his last three serials had all been smuggler stories. Maybe romance? Thoughts of Bianca filled his mind. No, he didn't feel in the mood for that. Or maybe he should try his hand at writing a Pirate story? He eyed the guys who worked under the Blood mage Pirate captain.

Maybe a heroic Mage who ended up with a bunch of Cutthroat pirates after running away from his circle, fighting against a contingent of templars hunting him, chasing him up and down the Eastern shore.

In his head an image formed, of a young, inexperienced Man, nut brown eyes, skin pale as snow and with A long black braid down his back. His expression, one of wonder at the world, but also a fear and aversion to Danger which always seemed to find him. A boy who had been forced to grow up before his time, scars across his body, a mark of his times with the templars. Very shy about them, blushing and stuttering if anyone sees them. Keep them hidden, robes at all times.

Hmm… Where to start it? Antiva? No, didn't fit the boy's Pale skin. Orlais? No, he was too raggedy, and his accent to course and hard. Hawke walked into the bar, alongside her two siblings. Ferelden it was, then.

Hawke took in the room with a measured, playful look. He waved them over to his table, as he fidgeted the map roland had given him, unrolling it across the table.

As the three Noticed him and began to walk to his seat, several of the bar eyed them, and the weapons The younger Hawkes carried over their shoulders. When they saw he had invited them over though, they let it drop.

They were a bit more impressive sight than last time he had seen them up in Hightown. Well, the younger ones were anyway, Hawke herself looked pretty much the same, just with some different bottles in her belt.

The Girl, Bethany, had ditched the Outfit she had worn to hightown, a rather bizarre mixture of cobbled together chainmail and regular clothing with open shoulders and a full view of her generous cleavage. The only thing she had kept from that was a red handkerchief, with a dark blue pattern around her neck.

Her new outfit was a mixture of leather, Some smaller plates, and as Roland had said of Mage armor, Chainmail was the highlight. On her left shoulder, she wore a single shoulder pad with the Mabari of Ferelden painted on it. Because it wouldn't be ferelden armor without a Dog on it.

Seriously, he had seen dozens of Ferelden fighters all over Kirkwall since the Blight, and pretty much all of them painted that dog on their armor someone. And maker forbid if they had a shield, they'd have incredibly intricate mabari Ramparts on them, painted with the cheap Paint you found on the Bazar in lowtown.

They really did love those dogs of theirs.

Rested over her shoulder she carried a spear, with a rather fancy Orange orb on the butt of it. The whole thing was fancy, but it would hardly be the first spear with ornamentation on it, but knowing what she was, he knew which side of that thing was the more dangerous.

On hawkes other side was Carver. At least, he assumed it was Carver, it was kinda Hard to tell for sure given the Armor.

Whereas back in hightown he had worn an outfit which looked more at home on a lumberjack than it did a warrior, here he wore a full set of armor of Plate and chainmail, with pieces of leather both holding it together and under it. The ensemble was topped by a Full plate armor with only a narrow visor for vision.

Unsurprisingly, it also had Mabari Symbols etched into it.

The whole assembly might have managed to make him look intimidating, but the whole thing was in such a shabby shape it was kinda amazing actually. Unlike the armor of his sisters, which seemed relatively untouched, Carvers armor was covered in scratches, dents and places where the armor had obviously been hammered back into place.

It didn't exactly give an impression of of a veterans armor, hardened by a hundred battles, but more one that had been hammered through and through, then sloppily hammered back into it's proper form.

Over his shoulder he carried a large two handed blade, which looked kinda like an oversized Butcher's knife. Made of Obsidian, it at least, was obviously well cared for, unlike the Kid's armor.

"Hawke! Good to see you. You as well sunshine." He added with a wink. "Sit down, sit down, want some Drinks while we chat?"

"No thank you Varric, i don't Drink on, before or during the job. Though that first and last one is kinda the same i suppose."

As the three sat down, he looked Hawke Over. She looked pretty much the same as he remembered her from earlier today. Yet, something was different. As he looked her over an unmistakable smell entered his nostrils, unmistakable even over the Heavy smell of alcohol and various other odors in the room.

The Metallic scent of blood.

Right. Not creepy at all.

"So what's the plan Dwarf?" Carver spoke up, confirming that it was indeed him. The metallic echo could not disguise the voice of a Boy just into manhood.

"I hope you actually managed to get the Info we talked about, or maybe your Boastings were just for show after all?".

Ah, a critic, those never got old.

"Oh, Dont Worry, ive got the info. On all three groups too, so there's no need to run around like headless chickens to find all of them."

"Three groups?" Hawke asked as she sat down. "How Large is this Company exactly?"

"Oh, about 50 members give or take."

"The Flint company is currently doing three different jobs, and are divided into three separate groups right now. The first-" He pointed behind him with his thumb, into the wall, towards the Dock's. "Is currently acting as Night guards for The Kirkwall Tolls and Customs."

"No guess for where we go first then." Hawke Chuckled.

"The second group." He pointed downwards on the map, on the spot Roland had marked for him. "Is Here, in a Cove that-"

"Wait." Carver interjection. "They're in the Cetus Cove? Why in Andraste's Tits would they be there?"

"I don't know little Hawke, i assume they're there on a job. Is there a reason they wouldn't be?"

He hadn't even heard of this Cove before today, but it would seem The Hawke Family had heard of it.

"It's a terrible spot for smuggling." Hawke explained. "The Cetus the place is named after died in the middle of the opening, and no one's been willing to go through the effort of removing the skeleton. So you can't get in and out of the cove by boat. And since it's so bloody far from the nearest road, it's not a good spot for bandits either."

"Well, terrible spot or not, that's where they are. Maybe you could tell them they're in the wrong spot for Caravan ambushes before we attack them."

Hawke smiled at that.

"That would be funny, but the element of surprise is too important to lose on that."

Her expression quickly went serious again.

"And the third group?"

His finger moved from the coast up into the mountains.

"There's apparently this Cave here which they're camped outside off."

Hawke Sighed. "So, a trek up to Sundermount. Great. Knowing my luck with that mountain, we'll find out the entire crew has been killed by the Dalish Ambassadors and they claimed the bounty already."

Carver looked down on the map, and traced the path from Kirkwall to the cove.

"That's a 12 hour journey there and back again." His voice was resigned, but also with a hint of despairing, like Anderfel Cheese.

"Don't worry Carver." Hawke replied Cheerfully. "We'll take the Sundermont trip the day after. You'll get some rest before then"

That's still an entire Day's march." Carver Grumbled. "Through the wounded coast no less."

"Indeed." Hawke replied, a predatory smile creeping over her Lips.

"Well, let's get going then. We'll just let Varric go change into Combat gear, then we head to the Harbor, kill the Guys at the Customs, bring their stuff over to our place and then we begin the trek to the Cove."

Wait what?

"Now?" Varric asked incredulously. Did she seriously want them to head to the wounded Coast in the middle of the Night?

"Of course now dwarf. What, you expected us to do it next week?" Carver replied in an annoyed tone.

"I was kinda expecting us to do the Trek in Daylight, you know, when we aren't in danger of tripping and breaking our legs on every hole in the dark. Also bribing the City Guards to look the other way while we exit the City at night, isn't exactly going to help us with you Earning money on this Job."

"Oh don't worry, about that Varric." Hawke replied in a cheerful tone. "I know a pretty good way out of the City through the Undercity, and what breaking our legs go…" she she motioned vaguely to Bethany.

Oh, right, a Mage. The Girl could probably heal broken Bones no problem.

"And what do you care about the lack of light anyway?" Carver asked sourely. "You're a Dwarf, can't you see in the Dark?"

"Fine, fine." he threw up his hands in a half hearted joking manner along with a smile. "I admit defeat, we'll go now, no problem."

He raised himself from the table as he rolled up his map.

"Just let me get My Combat stuff, then we'll go."

"We'll wait outside, Varric. Meet us there when you're ready."

As they parted ways, The Hawke trio to the Entrance of the pub and Varric to his room, He sighed as he thought on what was coming. Ok so he had been on the wounded coast a couple of times in his life.

3 times.

An hour or two away from the city.

The last time 4 Years ago.

Maker this was going to be a long trip.

\---

As he stepped outside, he saw the three Siblings standing ready, all three immediately seeing him as he stepped out.

"Well, that was qui-Wait you're going in that?" Carvers Voice sounded genuinely Shocked, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Truth be told he had not actually changed into a new outfit, just bianca slung over his shoulder and a belt with a series of Bolt Magazines.

The dangerous and dramatic Kind.

"Yes, Little Hawke, this is what i'm going with. Don't worry, i'll be behind you, so you wont get distracted by my Chest Hair."

"That's not what i- Fine whatever, wear whatever it is you Sodding want, just don't come crying to me if you get an arrow through the chest."

Hawke chuckled then motioned for him to follow as she began the trek to the Harbor, them after her.

"Don't mind him Varric, he's just been paranoid about armor ever since he got a spear through the gut two weeks ago. I think you look great. "

"Really? A spear through his stomach? Shaft and all?"

He looked at Bethany who made a small smile. Apparently broken bones were not the only thing Sunshine could Patch back together.

"Oh yes, Carver tried to jump into combat in his regular outfit. That… worked out about as well as you would expect."

"The one who makes him look like a lumberjack?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

Carver interjected. "I don't look like a bloody woodcarver. It's just… standard Ferelden Clothing."

"Hey now, there's nothing wrong with Being a lumberjack, they are an integral part of Society."

Hawke actually laughed at that.

"He bought it for cheap back at ostagar after he gambled away his shirt after the first victory. In autumn. As the cold winds were beginning to blow."

"He cheated, how many bloody times do i have to say that."

"Still shouldn't have gambled your Clothing Carver."

He was really starting to like the Hawke clan. Also, without even trying he had just learned one more puzzle in the question of who they actually were.

Carver grumbled, but after that, there was a bit of silence as they made the trip down towards the docks. Finally however, Bethany spoke up.

"Master Tethras? I had a question if you don't mind."

"Sure Sunshine, fire away. But feel free to just call me Varric, no need to add any dwarven Noble nonsense unto my name."

"You… You know what i am, right?"

"Sure, you're a beautiful, young Lady who's going to regain her rightful place in Kirkwall High Society soon enough."

He had dug deeply regarding the Hawke family when he had decided on Hawke as his only realistic option as a partner. The children of Leanna Amell and her lover Malcolm Hawke, an apostate of somewhat uncertain origins, they had run away from Kirkwall together almost three decades ago.

Said escape had completely upended the Amell Family's future as the family fortune was left to Leandras younger brother Gamlen. He had then completely wasted the family fortune away on inane business ideas and gambling.

Then, over a year ago Leandra and her previously unknown Children had suddenly showed up back in Kirkwall, escaping the Fifth Blight. They had then worked for a small time smuggler for a year after she helped them get into the city.

All well and Good, but no amount of digging had been able to reveal what exactly the family had been doing back in Ferelden. Until today.

"No, i mean…" She blushed at his praise and bit her lip.

"I'm a mage."

Oh, that was what she was worried about.

"Yeah, i know."

She looked at him incredulously, Carver also looked at him, but whatever his expression Varric couldn't see. Hawke kept looking forward.

"Are you really not afraid of Apostates? Not ever a little?"

He snorted.

"Sunshine, I'm a dwarf in case you missed that detail?"

"Dwarves aren't completely immune to Magic you know."

"No, no, no, i mean, there are over 30 people in this town who would murder me and my family over trade deals. Who has time to Worry about apostates, with the Merchant Guild breathing down your neck?"

"I… I See." Bethany's expression was kinda puzzled, as if she had never considered that anyone might not be worried about apostates. He'd seen that expression before, but generally only on Mages who had just escaped the circle.

They finally reached the final stairway down to the docks. As they stepped down, they passed what remained of the ancient gate to the harbor. Like all the sections of Lowtown, there had once been a strong solid portcullis which could simply be slammed down by the occupants of the fortified gate houses.That way they could easily block off sections of the city from each other, while also holding off attacks from any directions.

It had been a great way to deal with slave rebellions. Provided they didn't have Mages to just blow their way through of course. That had been what happened during the last, final slave rebellion, which had seen the City finally throw out the Tevinter slavers, and the city be remade from Emerius, to Kirkwall as he knew it.

The mages had ripped down and obliterated every single one of the Section Gates and the guard houses along with them.

As was usual, the Mages role in the Overthrow of the Magisters was forgotten, their deeds only remembered by those who had read history books which the chantry burned whenever they got their literature Hating hands on.

Several of his books was, were, and had been on that list, depending on where you were. Tantervale had banned all his works for a couple of years.

"So, any plans for how we attack? Or do we just charge in Firing Wildly?" He asked, the Custom yard nearing as they walked. His index finger itched, as it usually did when he knew he would fight shortly.

Hawke replied, but didn't glance over at him. "No that's pretty much it. Usually, with a crossbowman i'dd have started with stealth and killing as many as we could by picking them off with silent bolts before they realised they were under attack. But From what i recall from earlier, Bianca makes way too much sound for that."

Well, it wasn't wrong. He was so used to bianca that he had forgotten how loud she was compared to all other crossbows.

"And since we're in the middle of the city, having Bethany calling forth explosions of fire and lightning isn't exactly the most inconspicuous move. The sounds of that kind of spells carry far. Especially here at the docks."

Bethany shivered visibly at that, as she looked into the distance, the tall structure of the Gallows being clearly visible in the moonlight across the bay.

They continued on, until they finally reached the harbor proper. On their left side was the Qunari compound, which he pointedly ignored. On their right was their target for tonight, the Customs and tolls.

Two armed men with spears in in their hands, stood on either side of the entrance to the place, both of them watching them as they approached. They were well armored, but as Roland had said, they were not wearing plate. Instead they were clothed in armor made up of hundreds of smaller iron plates covering their chest. Along with a couple of well made steel helmets, It made them look professional, but not particularly elite.

Truth be told they looked like the kind of standard guards he would use for his stories. The ones that would talk about their grandchildren, or how they only had a couple of days before retirement.

One looked bored, while the other looked rather on edge. Both turned their head and looked at the party as they stepped down the stairwell to the harbor. Both of them wearily looked at Varric, with Bianca slung over his shoulder.

"Excuse me!" Hawke said loudly getting both of their attention.

"Are you guys from the Flint Company?" she asked in a cheerful tone.

The hostile one glared at her. "We are miss, what about it?"

"Great!" Hawke exclaimed.

Then faster than Varric could catch, the one on the side of the entrance farthest from them had a thrown dagger in his eye. The other man instantly lowered his spear and thrust at Hawke's face while shouting.

"TO A-Grrekll"

His shout however was cut short as Hawke dodged the spearhead, and thrust her dagger through his neck, where no armor covered.

The man stood, wide eyed, in completely shock and pain. Then hawke cleaved with the red blade to the side, deep enough that it had obviously cut through the spine. He dropped with no further comment.

Varric blinked. The whole thing had taken maybe five seconds.

He readied Bianca, as they heard footsteps from the Courtyard of the Customs, presumably the rest of the Flint Company(or at least some of them) had heard the commotion, and was now coming to check.

Well, this wasn't his first Battle, and as the first guy came rushing out, a quick succession of bolts took him in the chest, neck and gut.

It would be a long night.


	4. Night March

Carver Hawke had learned to hate many things in his life ever since leaving Ferelden.

He had learned to hate the way Kirkwall smelled. He had learned to hate cleaning up dogshit in a place where you couldn't just let the dog loose to go do his business outside town. He'd learned to hate Gamlen's house.

But above everything else he had learned to hate, it had to be all the damned places his sister had led him to over the last years. Each one full of danger, blood, steel, and always a pain in his ass.

The wounded coast was one such place. The reasons he hated this place in particular, was simply it's ridiculous size.

It was a broken coastline full of sharp pointy rocks, broken ships, and of course the wildlife. Giant spiders, wild dogs, and even the occasional drake.

And then there was the bandits. Oh, yes, the bandits. The wounded coast was absolutely crawling with Brigands of all colors.

The fact they had had to deal with no less than 4 separate groups just marching from one end of the coast to the other was proof enough of that.

So treading through the dark, with it's unwelcome holes, and occasional skypointing rock was never fun by itself, and having to occasionally have to deal with bandits was no less so.

The thing he hated above everything else here, was the planks with nails from the countless beached ships.

He had no less than 7 scars across both his feet from where he had accidentally impaled his feet in the dark from his trips here.

Yes, he hated this place alright.

Which just made it even more infuriating that Neither of his sisters minded going here at all. On the contrary, both of them were chipper and in good spirits.

As showcased by his sister's conversation with the dwarf.

"So, you were a soldier? Personally I had you figured for a master thief."

Hawk, as she liked to do, made that annoyed chuckle he hated so much.

"Yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you? But no, believe or not, I used to be an upstanding soldier keeping law and order across the land."

Her voice got that wistful tone it always got when she spoke about her soldier days.

"Maker, it seems so long ago now… But what about you Varick? I'm guessing you didn't pick up that kinda shooting skills at the bar."

"Oh, I've been in my fair share of scuffles. That kinda comes with growing up in Kirkwall. It's one of the few things that binds Hightown and Lowtown together. A constant need to watch your back for daggers."

Daemona laughed.

"Yeah, that's so damn true. The city should be named Daggerfall, the way everyone wants to ram a dagger into you."

"Huh. You know, that's actually a good city name. Mind if I use it for my book?"

"Only if you credit me."

Maker, listening to them was annoying.

"No problem. By the way, I had something I was wondering about. You said you were part of the army, and everyone's talking about how Fereldens military is wrecked now, but from what I've understood, you guys fight with levies, not Mercenaries and Knights. So, how does that work with a standing army?"

Carver rolled his eyes. Maker the Marchers had a shitty understanding of military matters.

"Oh we do use levies. But don't mistake those for the serf levies from Orlais. Ferelden don't have serfs, only freemen. Part of the duties of freemen is to own and train with a weapon, so that you can better protect your homes, along with being ready for war in case the call to arms come."

She pointed behind her with a thumb at carver.

"That's how my brother here ended up at Ostagar. He was part of the Levy from our town, sent to strengthen our battalion."

He remembered those days. Days when he had actual purpose in his life. There had been an actual reason to fight, and not just having to listen to Sis or father tell him to do work.

"The levy is only one part of our military though. The second is simply the nobles retinues. Knights and such. Basically, the way we do it is that the nobles provide most of the cavalry of the nation, while the third part of our military focuses almost exclusively on foot soldiers."

"And that third part is your standing army I'm guessing."

"Dead on. The Royal army is the personal retinue of the King, the backbone of our military might, and the upholders of law and order around the Kingdom."

Her voice suddenly lost all cheeriness.

"That's really what everyone is saying when they're saying our military is in shambles. Sure, we took massive losses in the blight, according to the papers I've read, the total death toll of the whole nation was between 50000-100000 dead. Which is a lot of goddamned dead, but you have to take into consideration that our entire nation only had a million people before the blight. In light of that, the levy isn't doing all that well at the moment."

"Still, it could have been so, so much worse. No, the real problem right now is the royal army. The wast majority of it died at Ostagar, and what was left was beaten and battered, first by all the conflicts around Loghain's powergrab, then by the battle of Denerim. Ignoring the fact that 7000 dead men is gonna have to be replaced, there's also all the now dead officers that will have to be trained to take the place of all those who died."

"Take that along with the fact King Alistair has to import huge amounts of food from the north, and it's not a good situation."

"Putting it mildly." Carver snorted.

They walked in silence for a brief moment, before their leader suddenly and without warning pulled out a dagger from her belt, and hurled it sideways and upwards into an outcropping of rocks.

Varrick, Bethany and Carver all grabbed their weapons out of their holsters, as a body fell down and smashed into the ground.

Daemona went over to the body unconcerned, and kicked it over with her foot. Then she knelt down and inspected it as she ripped out her throwing knife, which had embedded itself into the dead man's neck.

"Another Bandit. You'd think this was Orlais, the way they spring up like weeds."

By his side, Bethany muttered something, as her eyes began glowing white.

"Anyone else Bethany?"

The young mage squinted up along the cliff.

"Not that I can see. No people anyway."

The glow went out, and she began breathing hard, like she had just run a mile.

The spell she had just cast had been a favorite of their father, a spell he had created to allow one to see living things, like fires in the night. At least that's how he'd always explained it. Carver hadn't really been that interested in listening in on stuff he'd never be able to use.

The only problem with the spell was that it drained Mana like crazy.

Daemona was going through the dead Man's pockets, while making Tsk, Tsk noises.

"Wearing bright steel while there's no clouds and the moon is full? And while hiding amongst dust colored rocks? What a fool."

Carver bit his lip.

He hadn't seen the man at all. While Daemona had just picked him out like it was nothing.

Damnit.

"Anything of value? Or just more of the regular crap all these bandits seem to carry around?" Varrick asked.

"Well, he's got two notched knives, a chainmail shirt full of holes, and sandals. Also… A pouch full of… Bacon?" She sniffed it. "Yeah… We're leaving that."

Carver looked up more on the up cropping of rocks wearily. He wanted to go out and hunt down the rest of the bandits. But they wouldn't. They would just keep on marching.

They didn't have time to deal with every single Bandit group on the coast.

It still nagged at him, just leaving them there to do their business of banditry.

\---

Cotus Cove was something else.

Varric had seen his share of strange, bizarre and impressive things in his life. But right now, the relatively mundane sight of a Dead Cetus reminded him that despite all he had experienced in his life, all of it was confined to the city of Kirkwall.

He'd never really gone on a massive trip outside the city before. Large adventuring wasn't his style.

In fact, the only time he'd ever really considered doing something like that, he'd backed down on the matter, and rather than try his luck on the road alongside someone he loved, he'd instead gone back to Kirkwall.

It was one thing to read about giant sea snakes that could swallow ships. It was something else to see it's skeleton, with an open maw, with a mouth so large it could have swallowed most of even the largest ships Varric Tethras had ever seen.

The sight really put it all into perspective.

For one thing, it made the guards standing lockout by the entrance seem so, so mundane by comparison. The skull of the beast was on it's side looking like the entrance of some enormous toothed cave, and as Hawke had said, the rest of the massive skeleton blocked the entrance through the water.

The only way in, was through the jaw.

"So, how do we do this? You want me to start sniping them from here?"

He could do it. There was just 30 meters, from here to there. He'd made that kinda shot many times in his life.

"If there was only 2 guys maybe, but of course, these lovely folks have 5 guys at the entrance, and all of them stand apart, so we can't just take them all out with a fire ball either."

"A group with actual sense? Now there's a first for tonight."

"Yep. Not to worry though. We'll do this with the old battering ram tactic."

Carver groaned, while Varric just cocked his head.

"You and Bethany take one guy each at range, while we charge in weapon drawn, and finish off the rest." Hawke explained.

"Alright, which one do you want me to stick a bolt into?" He raised Bianca up and aimed, considering which one to shoot.

"Hmmm… Let's go with… That guy on the left. The one with the black pants. Dreadful color that, with that armor. If you wanna stay hidden at night, you should use dark blue instead. It blends in way better than pure black."

He blinked.

"Really?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, it's way better. Completely black only works in utter and complete darkness. If there is even a hint of light, like say, the moon, then blue that borders on dark blends much better. People see-" "Not that this isn't bloody fascinating and all" carver interrupted. "But maybe we should get this battle over with. You two can have all the time you want to talk or whatever on the long way home."

Hawke rolled her eyes.

"Fine carver. Bethany, you take… that guy far to the right."

A short while later, a deadly bolt loosed from a mechanical crossbow, while a ball of fire shot through the night air.

The bolt hit the man it was aiming at straight in the throat, while the ball exploded into a giant explosion that echoed far and wide in the night sky.

The moment the sound washed over their hiding spot, Hawke and Carver was springing across the sand. Towards the 3 remaining mercenaries.

Varric tried to make another deadly shot, but missed and instead the bolt slammed into one guy's chest. Varric regarded himself as one of the best shooters in the marches, but reality was that the moment your enemy started to move, they became exceptionally more difficult to hit. And that difficulty just became way higher the farther away you were from the target.

Still, he kept slamming bolts into the men as Hawke and Carver made their way towards them like… Well he would say a couple of leopards, but Carver was more like a bull. Sure he could move once he got going, but really, he wasn't exactly exactly subtle or graceful.

Hawke though… Well, the name fit well, as she did indeed remind him as nothing so Much as a bird of prey as she moved across the sand.

The sheer difference between the two siblings was also pretty obvious looking at them in action.

As carver slammed into one of the warriors, he immediately began a duel. The boy wasn't completely worthless, as he did relatively well. If he had to peg him, he'd rank him as an average, but experienced swordsman, the way he handled that big blade of his.

Hawke though… Hawke was death.

The first mercenary tried to bring her down with an axe, and brought it at her head with a sideways swing.

The red blade, glistening in the moonlight shot out, and with a quick, downwards cleave, she severed the shaft of the axe, just above the man's hand.

Before the axehead had hit the ground, or the man had realised his weapon had just become a stick, the Hawke had buried her other dagger in his eye.

Then, with the grace of a dancer(The real kind, not the ones you found in Kirkwalls finer establishments) she moved from that, over to engage the final mercenary currently by the exit, who trust a spear at her.

She moved with the grace of a cat as she snapped to the side, the pointy stick missing her, before she fell upon the soldier with two red blades.

This time, both blades drove deep into the man's neck.

Carver was still doing his duel, having gotten into a heated series of clashes with the man that would have made for a relatively good fight scene in one of his books… At least until Hawke came at the man from behind, and drove her daggers into the back of the man's knees.

The poor guy screamed as Carvers sword ended his suffering.

Carver kept staring down at the man, as Hawke whistled at them, and motioned for them to come over quickly.

Well, if nothing else, he had the feeling his fight scenes were going to become quite the improvement in the near future.


	5. The Keeper

As Varric woke from the hard-knocking in the door, the first thing he noticed was the pain in his poor sore, sore feet.

He groaned and bitterly regretted that he hadn't taken the time to smear them with healing poultice before he went to bed in the morning. He really should have, but he had just been so damn tired, after a busy day, then marching for half the night, then a big fight, then more marching to get back to Kirkwall.

The sun had begun to Brighten the night sky red when they finally stumbled out of a passage from Darktown into Kirkwall proper.

Then it had been almost two hours before he finally reached the home of house Tethras, up in Hightown. Just so that they could prep for the day after.

As he got up, he groaned, then stretched his arms over his head, while letting out a yawn, desperately trying to chase away the feeling of utter tiredness that permeated through his body.

All the while the knocking on the door continued unabated.

"I'm Awake, I'm awake." He said in his usual smooth tone.

As he began to dress, the stern voice of the mansion's head maid spoke through the door.

"There is a woman here to see you master Varric. She says you are expecting her."

"I sure am, show her in."

Varric had barely finished dressing when the door opened, and Hawke walked into the room.

Varric got a quick glimpse of the scowling face of an older Dwarf woman before Hawke closed the door behind her.

"Cheerful maid. Reminds me of Gamlen. Only shorter, and much better looking."

"Don't mistake them, Hawke, Blaka is way more clever than she looks. Though, Addmitingly, it would be pretty hard to beat losing millions of coins on investment in cheese."

She also knew to keep quiet to Barthrand, about who came to visit him. It was one of the things he liked about her.

"Anyway Hawke… You wanted to see the map of Sundermount right?"

He once again gave a massive yawn as he went over to a drawer and opened it to rummage through some pieces of papers until finally he found what he was looking for, then went over to a smaller stone table.

It was expertly carved in marble, in a perfect example of the proud Orzammar style.

Varrick had never cared for said proud style. Give him a practical wooden table that could easily be moved around any day.

He rolled out said map over the table, as he sat down by a chair(This one was actually made of practical, simple Wood.).

"Sorry I don't have a real chair for you. I generally don't get beautiful ladies of your stature in here."

"Eh, it's fine."

With that Hawke knelt down over the table to get a look at the very detailed map.

Her face, which had been playful, quickly changed to something that reminded him of every cat he had ever seen surveying the birds in the streets.

"So detailed… I used to have a full map of all of Ferelden that wasn't half as detailed as this."

"Yeah… They really made a ludicrously detailed survey of all the lands around Kirkwall back in the day. You know, when they actually ruled all of it and didn't just talk about how we are the masters of the southern coast.

" Yeah… I've seen that. You guys should have invested in roads. If you wanna keep an area under control you need to actually be able to March to defend it."

The image of him being able to March from the city gates and all the way along the broken coast on an even terrain popped into his mind.

Ah, if only.

Mentally waving that image aside, he pointed to a specific spot on the map.

"The final group of our kingslayers are camped here. Not sure what they're doing there exactly, but It doesn't really matter much anyway."

"No, I suppose not."

His hand moved off a bit from where he had been pointing, to closer to sundermount itself.

"As for elvhen Ambassadors, they are camped here, at the entrance to the pathway up the mountain. Some 70 members, all in all."

Varric hesitated for a moment, before continuing.

"We're… not gonna fight them, are we? Just asking now, cause if you really wanna take on almost a hundred men, I really need some warning about that beforehand."

"Nah… I'm just going to drop off a package there. And finally, close off another chapter of my life."

\---

Journeying up to sundermount had been a WAY better experience than making the night trip across the broken coast.

It was amazing how much better it was to not have to worry about bandits as they walked.

That and the lack of Carver swearing as he stepped on sharp pointy things really made the journey way less tedious than the trip in the night had been.

Though, as he walked, there was one thing that bothered him here, which had not been a problem at the shore.

Namely that as they walked, they kept coming across heads of humans on stakes.

The elvish ambassadors were keeping the entire area around Sundermount clean of bandits. Which was all well and good, he just hoped that their pointy-eared friends wouldn't mistake them for bandits, and launch a surprise attack.

Because if this actually turned to bloodshed, then things could go very, very badly, very quickly.

"Ah, more heads on spikes. Very original." Hawke said dryly as they came across some 4 heads in a row along the road.

"You'd think they'd have grown tired of putting them up after the first 50."

Varric chuckled.

"You'd think so, but trust me, people in charge never get tired of putting heads on spikes. Remember those 5 ships that turned out to be slavers last year?"

"I heard about it. But I was doing some other stuff then, so I didn't really get to see any of it."

"Oh, well it was the usual stuff. Quick public trial, loud condemnations, then old Dumar had every single crewman on those ships hanged, and 300 or so heads were mounted along every dock on the east side of the city."

"Quite efficient of him. And here I thought he was about as useful as an orlesian fashion designer."

"Oh, he has his moments. Problem is they just come once a year or so."

"Yes, this city could really do with some proper leadership. Think it will get better once he bites it?"

"No." he said, in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"Ouch. The heir is that bad?"

"Eh, the kid's likable enough, but he's his father's son. He's a follower, not a leader. Best case scenario? He'll get a competent wife, who pulls the strings in the right directions."

"Ah, like queen Daemona Cousland back home." Bethany popped in.

"Yeah, pretty much. From what I've heard, King Alistair is basically just there to look pretty, while his wife is the one who does all the real business and bullshit of leadership."

None of the 3 Fereldens contradicted him, so he guessed they agreed with him on the subject.

"Speaking of her… I've been meaning to ask. You share the same name. Any connections there? Some legendary heroine with that name?"

"You mean like how every bloody chevalier names their daughters Aveline after that overrated knight? No, nothing like that. It's just a popular name in the northern part of Ferelden. Father wanted us to be true Fereldens so he made sure to give us good old Ferelden names."

Ah, a man after Varric's tastes then. Better embrace your current situation, rather than just eternally long after old, faded glory.

"So, he wasn't Ferelden stock himself then?"

"Oh no, he was. He was as Ferelden as they come, King, country, Dogs and all. You name it, if it was Ferelden, he was all into it."

"A real patriot then."

"Oh yes. I never once in my life saw him prouder than when I signed up with the recruiters to join the Army. Good honest work as he said. Protect the kingdom, guard the realm, and put food on the table for your family"

As he expected, carver immediately tensed up as Hawke remissed on better days.

Clearly, the boy didn't have as good an impression of their father's reaction as His big sister had.

"So you were a soldier, but… What about the rest of the family?"

"Oh, we were farmers." Bethany pied in. "We owned a pretty large farm outside of Lothering. That's gone now though."

A silence suddenly fell over all the Hawke siblings, as they all got melancholic expressions.

Their old homestead was a pretty sore point for them all it seemed.

Varric just let the silence hang until Bethany spoke again.

"What about you Varric? Your family are Kirkwall nobles, right? How long have you been around?"

At that, he could tell Hawke piped up, clearly curious about his background.

"Well, calling us nobles would be a bit of a stretch. We're members of the Dwarven Merchant guild, and we have political power in Kirkwall, but we aren't lords or any nonsense like that. As for how long we've been here, about two generations. My father was the head of our house, and he had a pretty good thing going back in Orzammar. Then he got expelled from the "Empire" for fixing a proving and our entire house was kicked out and exiled to the surface. We made our way to Kirkwall, and with our wealth, artisans and warriors, we quickly bought our way to a spot in the Dwarven merchant guild."

"You became nobles, just like that?" Carver asked incredulously, like the idea of someone rising out of obscurity in any way other than being granted land for some great deed was insane.

"Sure did, Little Hawke. The clink of coins is what drives this city. Nobody in the guild cares about lineage. Well, okay that's a lie. EVERYONE cares about their OWN bloody lineages, but compared to how much they care about the sweet allure of gold, they couldn't care less where you came from. If you got the money, they don't care if you're a paupers son or a prince in exile."

"I see… Do you miss it then?"

"What, Orzammar? Are you crazy? I was born and bred in Kirkwall after we came here, and even if I wasn't, do you know what Orzammar is? It's crap-filled tunnels filled with Nugshit, and body odor. And every person there thinks he's better than you because his great, great-great-grandfather made a water clock or something."

"But they're your people, where your family came from. Don't you wonder what it would be like to live there again?"

"I have a good imagination, why would I waste it on that?"

Carver was about to say something, only for Hawke to shoot out a hand signaling all of them to stop.

Immediately, everyone shut up and drew their weapons.

"What?" he asked in a quiet tone as he looked out over the area around them, scanning the trees for a lookout or a guard. He saw neither.

Hawke simply pointed at a hole in the ground.

It looked completely ordinary to Varric, but the Hawke looked at it, it might as well have been the footprints of a dragon.

As he looked though, he realized that there were actually a series of holes in the ground, going into the foliage of trees.

"Varterral." Hawke said in a quiet tone.

"I have no idea what that is."

"Very bad, if we encounter it. Just shut, and follow me. Quietly."

\---

They did not meet this "Varterral", but they did get to see it's handiwork quite well as they finally reached the camp of their target.

The entire thing had been obliterated. Corpse was strewn about, with huge, massive holes in them, like someone had dropped sharp logs from above to punch through them, then ripped them out, leaving nothing but dead bodies behind.

Hawke did not say anything, instead just motioning for them to follow as she began the work of cutting off every head, and appropriating every company badge there was, along with bags of coins.

All the while she glanced around, clearly worrying that the creature would return. It did not, and they were allowed to loot in peace.

Finally, they made their way out from the place and began their track towards the camp of the elves.

\---

Well, Varric's info had been on the money.

That was good.

20 elves with arrows, swords, and axes pointed at them were quite a bit worse.

Hawke had managed to arrange a meeting by calling out the first scout she saw, getting him to. Come with his superior.

Of course, he had come with an escort, which Hawke was not particularly happy with. She was on a clearing with some big pointy rocks going skyward, so she and the rest weren't completely out in the open, nor were they surrounded, but if this came to battle, it would not favour them. At all.

The first rule of battle that Hawke had been taught by her sergeant so many years ago, had been that whoever struck first would always have the advantage.

If you got in the first blow, and you could make that first blow count, then you could overcome immense odds.

It was one of the reasons she hated parlay with an armed opponent. By talking and informing them you were there, you surrendered the possibility of a surprise attack.

Hopefully, though, this would not come to battle. She was just going to hand over an amulet, and that would be that.

The man in charge, dressed in fine plated steel of dark green Veridium, iron chainmail covering the weak spots or the armor. On his head, he wore a three visored helmet with great, black antlers sticking out of it.

He carried a massive, Silverite axe over his shoulder, as he strode forward with a relaxed, confident stride.

It was in striking contrast to his companions, who all were incredibly tense as if they expected battle at any moment.

"Ah… Varric Tethras. The famous Novelist… Finally… That old Viscount has decided to send a delegation to speak with us. It's about bloody time."

Hawke blinked, then turned her head towards Varric at her side, who seemed a bit surprised, but recovered very quickly.

As she turned back towards the elf in the steel armor, she could tell the tenseness went out of the men behind him, as weapons were lowered, and relief covered their faces.

"Sooo… Actually, we're not here on the Viscount's orders. Sorry."

Silence. Then a sigh.

"Of course you aren't, that would have been too damn convenient. What the fuck do you lot want then?"

At that Hawke stepped forward.

"I was told to deliver a package to your elder."

"By whom?"

"Flemeth, the witch of the wild."

Another silence fell over the groups, but this one was a stunned one, and at the corner of her eye, Hawke could tell this had actually genuinely taken him by surprise.

She grinned, giving the man her best smile.

"I… I see. So… you're Asha'bellanar's messenger. I was expecting an elf but… Yes, I see now, you do fit the description. Black hair, blue eyes… very well come with me. But be warned, stranger…" his voice got a dangerous edge. "If you lift a blade against anyone in our camp, you shall meet our blades."

\---

Hawke could tell Varric wanted to ask questions regarding Flemeth as they walked into the camp, but he didn't get the chance as they were quickly taken to the center of the place.

The camp reminded her of nothing as much as the war camp at Ostagar, just much much smaller.

All entrances into the camp were fortified by wagons that could easily be linked together to form a barrier you would need a mage to blast through.

She also noticed not one, but 3 different latrines, as well as an enchanted water trough, the runes glowing with a pale blue, ready to provide clean, and eternal water to camp.

The men and women sitting around the camp were almost all dressed in armor, with only a few select wearing more mundane clothing.

A couple of blacksmiths, a group of hunters, some others without an obvious occupation.

She also noticed the complete lack of children, which from what she had understood about Dalish was a very strange thing.

One thing That immediately struck her was the flags.

There were a dozen identical flags scattered about the camp, covering each exit, and just planted here and there. The sign was a checkered pattern one, with a square of white in the right upper corner, and the left bottom one, with a red square in the opposite corners.

The red square had a white tree without leaves on it in the middle, while the white ones had a green, leafy mask on them.

All of them were exquisitely well cared for, showing that the camp were very proud of them. That, the well-kept camp, and the good shine of the armor the elves were wearing, showcased the professionalism of these warriors, that hawk had not seen on any "soldier" in the employ of Kirkwall.

You could judge a force, and Hawke very much did, by how well they maintained everything that made them function. Every army was built on a thousand different things, and if the things at the bottom were out of order, the entire army above would. Suffer for it.

The group composed of 3 humans and 1 dwarf were marched towards the middle of the camp, where a bonfire was burning.

In front of it, sitting on a rock and back turned towards Hawke and company, sat an old, old woman, with white hair kept up in a bun.

"Keeper Marethari, The one that Asha'bellanar sent has come… Along with Varric Tethras, a nobleman from Kirkwall."

The old woman rose, then slowly turned to face them.

The first thing that struck Hawke was how old this woman looked. She had met plenty of old folks in her life, but there was something about this elf that seemed… Ancient.

Maybe it was the hair that had just gone completely snow-white without a shred of gray in it, or maybe it was her incredible amount of facial lines, being the proof of an old, old life. Or maybe it was the eyes. The tired, tired eyes, that seemed to just belong to someone who just wanted to rest.

Her face was covered in golden tattoos of the design the Dalish used, though Hawke did not know the name of it.

"Thank you Darnir… I shall take it from here."

The old woman stepped forward to inspect the party, the other elves giving them plenty of room to talk.

Hawke, deciding she just wanted this over with, quickly pulled out the piece of jewelry the dragon witch had given her and handed it over to the older woman, who took it and inspected it with those tired eyes.

"Marethari, I was told to bring you this amulet."

There, she had wanted to be rid of this thing for ages now, and now she was. Simple and easy.

After finishing inspecting the amulet, Marethari sighed then spoke.

"Aggarana tishan Travelers. Indeed I am keeper Marethari. Let me have a look at your face."

With that, she stepped forward to inspect Hawke more closely, and Hawke suddenly got an eerie, uncomfortable feeling, like the woman in front of her was seeing through her skin, and straight at her bones.

After a short while, she spoke again.

"There is a light in your heart, human. Don't let it go out. You will need it."

With that, she stepped back before continuing.

"Tell me… How did this burden fall on your shoulders child?"

Hawke considered for a moment, then decided to give a quick and perfectly accurate depiction of events.

"A dragon fell from the sky, and burned a few darkspawn, saving my family's life."

"You are blessed by luck then. I will pray that Mythal watches over your path. The amulet must be taken to the top of the mountain and given a Dalish rite for the departed. Once you have completed this task, return the amulet to me."

Hawke's grin fell into a grimace.

"Of course… It couldn't just be as easy as me handing it over could it."

"Few things worth doing are easy child."

Hawke sighed.

"Yeah, I heard that line from my father once. Anything more I need to do? Slay a dragon, kill and skin some darkspawn maybe?"

"There is… Something more, yes."

"I was joking!"

"Nevertheless, there is one final thing I must ask, for your debt to Asha'bellanar to be repaid. My first awaits you up along the mountain path. She knows the ritual you must perform, and once it is done and you have returned… I must ask that you take her with you."

"... That's your final task? Me taking an elf back to Kirkwall? Like… Adopt her?"

"No, I do not ask that you take her into your family, just that you see her to the city."

That… didn't sound too bad. She supposed she might as well do it.

"Ok, so you want me to take her into the city, and help her past the guards. Okay, I can do that. You called her your first… That's… Your firstborn daughter?"

"You humans would call her my apprentice, or heir. Merill would take over as keeper of the clan after I'm gone… Or that is how it used to work at least… I'm not entirely certain how it would have worked once we returned to the kingdom. Regardless… she has chosen a different path. Please… Guide her safely from here."

There were a lot of expectations in those words, Hawke could tell. Great, another person who expected her to take care of things.

"Fine… I'll do it."

"Thank you, child."

She turned to Varric.

"And you are… Varric Tethras was it?"

She knelt down to inspect his face as she had done to Hawke.

Varric seemed pretty at ease as if ancient women inspecting his features were perfectly natural.

"At your service."

"You also have a fire in your heart… you are very alike your companion. Two of a pair you are… and… No… There is more to you… A hidden sadness, a fear of becoming..."

Suddenly, She got to her feet and looked down on the dwarf.

"So you are a nobleman are you?"

"Well, not exactly, my family is in the Dwarven merchant guild. So we-" "I am aware of the details of your government."

The old woman interrupted him.

She sighed.

"A pity. Your Viscount should agree to the King's request for safe passage for the elves of his city. Allowing them to immigrate to the New Dales would be for the best, not only for us but for him as well."

"Yeah, there's been a lot of people saying that. Lots of extra room in the city that would become free if they agreed to your King's request."

"And your chantry and templars say otherwise. Meredith… There is a great evil in that one. And the leader of your herd refuses to take sides… That will not end well for anyone I fear."

"Farewell Tethras. I hope for your sake, that you will make the right choices when the time comes. Much and more will rest on your shoulders I fear."

And with that, she motioned for the elf in the plated armor to lead them to the path up the mountain.

The moment they were out of earshot, Varric opened his mouth.

"Sooo… We're doing this delivery for Flemeth, the witch of legends. This story I've got to hear."

She had honestly expected him to be annoyed, or even angry at her for not telling him why exactly she had been searching for the elvish ambassadors for months.

Not eager and giddy with excitement for a tale.

"Well, to be honest, it's kind of a… unbelievable and insane tale of stumbling on a mythological witch in the middle of nowhere at the exact right time."

She scratched her neck.

"Like, if someone had told me that tale without anything to back it up, I'd have laughed them out of the room."

"Hawke, we're out earning coin, to finance a looting expedition down into the caves of a fallen empire that were overrun by creatures created when a bunch of mages tried to invade the home of God, and overthrow him and take his place as ruler of the universe. Normal is not a word I'd use to describe any of this."

"That's… actually that's a good point. Alright then, so you want all the juicy details, do you? Alright then, let me tell you of how I led my family in a daring escape out of our hometown, chased by thousands and thousands of darkspawn, then when it all seemed lost, a giant dragon swooped down to save the day…"


	6. Merrill

Hawke did her best to regale Varric with the tale of her escape from lothering, her family's trek across Southern Ferelden trying to reach the Port city of Gwaren, them meeting an annoying dying Templar and his wife, becoming surrounded by hundreds of darkspawn, and their rescue from certain death at the hands of an out of nowhere appearance of a high dragon, which had turned out to be the legendary witch Flemeth, THE supernatural Villain of Ferelden Folklore. 

And she told it all completely accurately, with no embellishments whatsoever. 

She was about to launch into explaining about her deal with Flemeth when a faint humming sound began interrupting her story. 

"The heck is that sound?" Carver asked in an annoyed tone. 

"Don't know, but it's coming from behind that turn along the path, so I'm guessing it's the lady we're looking for."

As they stepped around the bend in the road, they were greeted by the sight of yet another elf sitting on a rock, with her back turned towards them. 

In this case, she was also holding what appeared to be a glowing glass shard, that was emanating a bright white light. The humming sound was also clearly coming from said shard of glowing glass. 

With a start, the elf seemed to realize there were people behind her, as the glow instantly faded, and she scrambled to her feet. 

The elf was pretty short and in most regards, Hawke would have simply called her scrawny, with thin limbs, short black hair held together in a lot of smaller braids, and with a face that looked like someone in their late teens. 

Large eyes, soft face, and with blushing cheeks, the girl reminded her of Bethany as she had been some 3-4 years ago. 

The lone exception to this was her bosom, which had to be remarkably large, given the fact that they were very clearly showing as they pushed the chainmail she was wearing into an outline around her chest. 

Her outfit was a strange one, with full chainmail across her entire body, only leaving open some incredible weak spots along the inner part of her elbow joint, the back of her knees, around her heels and toad, and her armpits. 

Had Hawke been a regular person, she would have thought it was a ridiculously shoddy piece of armor. However, she immediately recognized it as a stylized mage armor, made to allow full expulsion of Mana during spell casting. 

It still had ridiculous weak spots though. 

Above said chainmail, she wore a green tunic, with furred shoulders, as well as a green scarf around her neck. If that outfit didn't scream mage, she didn't know what would. 

She'd have to give her a cloak at least to hide all of that before leaving her to her devices in Kirkwall. The girl could not have been a more obvious mage if she tried. 

As she spoke, her voice didn't exactly do anything to discredit Hawke's thoughts that she was in her late teens, sounding much like a growing girl. 

"Oh! I didn't hear. You must be the one the keeper told me about. Aneth Ara."

She gave a short bow to Hawke. 

Hawke was about to reply, but the girl just kept on going. 

"I'm so sorry, I didn't ask your name. Unless… It's not rude to ask a human their name, is it?" 

"I'm Merrill. Which you probably knew already. I'm rambling, sorry."

There was something about the way the girl held herself that brought a smile to Hawke's face. It was both funny, yet adorable at the same time. 

"I'm Daemona Hawke. And forgive me for saying so Merrill, but… You seem awfully nervous."

As Hawke had hoped, the girl squeaked, before replying. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just… I've never met a human before. Dalish mothers frighten their children with stories about you, you know?"

"Not you, personally, of course! I'm sure they don't have any tales about you. or not scary enough at least."

"Not that you're not notable enough to have a story… I'll just shut up now…" 

Hawke chuckled. 

"You'll have to work a bit harder than that to offend me, Merrill." 

The girl swallowed before continuing. 

"I'm… Glad to hear it. I'm sorry, but… I'm not very experienced with your kind."

"The keeper said you came from Ferelden. I spent most of my life there. We only came north very recently, after the founding of the Kingdom."

"Have you been in the free marches long? Do you like it here?"

"Not really. I miss the cold. and the dirt. and the constant clashes between Ferelden and Avar clansmen, and chasin clansmen, and uppity Orleasian's at the border. Though I suppose the bandit population is about the same, so there is that at least. "

"I know! It is remarkable how many bandits you humans have. Where do they pop up from? There are so many of them here."

Hawke considered for a moment, whether to make a wisecrack about the very lucrative caravan routes, but she decided to leave that for now, and instead just went with the utterly boring. 

"A true mystery for the ages." before continuing with "So, why are you leaving your clan for Kirkwall? I was under the impression that you guys were supposed to bring the elves back across the sea with you, not to join them in the Alienages. 

Merrill bit her lip at the question, before answering. 

"We are, but… That will take years most likely, that's what the King said anyway. As for why I'm leaving… I have to. Let's just leave it at that alright?"

"Trouble with the clan?" 

"It's not like that! Not exactly, anyway…"

"The keeper and I have... disagreements, but I'm sure it will sort itself out in time."

The tone of her voice made it very clear that that wasn't gonna happen. 

"Alright then, I'll leave that for now. So, on a more relevant topic, Do you know the witch who sent me here?" 

At the mention of Flemeth, Merrill shivered visibly, despite the warm air. 

"No, not personally. My people tell stories of her though. You are very lucky. Most people who meet Asha'bellanar wind up in little pieces… Hanging from the trees."

"Yeah, they say the same things in Ferelden. Though back home we focus mostly on the stealing children in the cribs." 

"I… Don't think Asha'bellanar would care much about stealing human children."

"Yeah, she said the exact same actually. Like she didn't have better things to do."

Again, Merrill visibly shivered as Hawke brought up her previous talk with the legendary witch of the wilds. 

"Anyway, what exactly is this ritual we're supposed to perform once we reach the top?" 

Merrill, seemingly glad to get to talk about another topic, eagerly began explaining. 

"It is a funeral of sorts. I'll perform it once we've reached the mountain top. Getting there will be the tricky part. Our hunters haven't been able to reach the mountain top. Dark things are about."

"Great… So what things are we talking about here? Given the dark clouds about this thing, I'm guessing it's something great and terrible" 

"Well… there are the giant spiders who inhabit the caves we'll have to cross halfway up the mountain. Then there is the undead. I think there was an abomination as well up here, though it might have left. Oh, and the guardian is of course prowling the mountainside, though it should not bother us once we've gotten up from the slopes. 

"So basically it's just like the bracillian forest then. Just vertically. And without trees. Please tell me there aren't werewolves here as well?" 

"No. The werewolves are gone now. The king and the other Grey wardens saw to that. It's one of the reasons we can settle the forest now."

"Right. Anyway then Merrill, lead on up the mountainside. We've got a long trek ahead of us."

They got literally one minute of walking done before about 7 corpses rose from the ground to try and kill them. 

Then after they had put those into the ground, and burned the corpses, they got 4 minutes done, before another squad of undead rose from the ground. 

\---

"Why are there so many damned corpses lying around here?" Hawke exclaimed in real annoyance, as she helped Varric yank out an arrow from his thigh before Bethany began to close the wound with healing magic, a talent that their guide, alas, did not possess. 

They had been walking for half an hour, and so far dealt with 5 different gaggles of the undead. It had been spooky the first couple of times. Then it had become annoying. Then, REALLY annoying. 

It wasn't that undead were the most dangerous kind of enemies. Not regular undead anyway. While they could pack a punch, walking corpses weren't exactly the most durable thing in the world. One good hit and they'd crumble apart. 

But usually, you'd only have to deal with one group of them, as very few groups of people were dumb enough to leave massive amounts of corpses lying around for spirits to inhabit. 

Even bandits usually made sure to deal with corpses after killing them, specifically so they wouldn't have to deal with a large number of the undead. 

Here though, it seemed there was a stupidly large amount of the dead just walking around, waiting for someone to walk by so they could rise from the ground dramatically. 

"In the days of Arlethan, the elders came here to sleep. Uthenarra they called it. The endless sleep."

"Wait, I thought the elves of those days were immortal."

"Oh, they were. However, as the years went on, and on, many grew tired of their endless lives, and so they decided to embrace a peaceful existence of rest and eternal sleep."

"Seems a rather strange way to embrace immortality."

"Maybe so, but we aren't in a position to understand the elders. In any case, after humans came to thedas, and robbed us of our eternal lives, and the widespread gift of magic, the elders who had come here to rest peacefully, perished in their sleep."

"Wait, widespread gift of magic?" Bethany piped in."

"In the old days, all elves were blessed with the gift of magic. Or so the stories say."

"Bethany seemed mystified with the idea of a society where all people were mages, but Hawke, who had heard this story before, was more interested in the parts related to Sundermount itself. 

"So every elf ever who got tired of living came here to rest forever? No wonder there are so many damned undead then. A mausoleum of that size is just asking for large-scale demonic possession."

"Well, yes. But that was only the first of the tragedies that happened here. In the final days of the old Elvhen empire, the elves made one final stand here, at the very top of the mountain. Against them marched the full might of the bloodthirsty tevinter imperium, and in the heat of the battle, both sides called forth hosts of spirits of great, and terrible power, who today roam the mountain, looking for the enemies from a war long since ended."

"Huh. That explains a lot." Varric noted. 

"And the only way to get rid of all of them would be if someone was willing to go up here and kill everything here, burn every corpse, and destroy every single demon."

"Yes."

Yeah, that wasn't gonna happen. You'd need a leader who was both tenacious enough to see it through to the very end, had the political backing to get thousands of people to support the endeavor, and the competency to actually lead an army to do it. 

Not to mention you'd need an actual state, and an army to do it with. 

Their viscount sure as hell wasn't up to that challenge. 

\---

Varric had grown up in the shadow of Sundermount. Every child in Kirkwall was raised on the stories of the horrible mountain filled with demons, undead, and worse things. 

It wasn't Varric had fully believed in those stories, he was a skeptic at heart after all, but Varric knew the way all kirkwallers reacted when you brought it up. 

Fear, and terror, and a refusal to consider even going there. 

The reality was both worse and more mundane. 

What he learned from Daisy was that all the stories were absolutely true. One percent true. 

What he learned from his trek up the damned mountain, was that while the stories might be true, they were far easier to deal with than his old childhood tales made them sound. 

Undead were pretty easy to deal with. At least the smaller scale ones. One good bolt to the head and they would shatter into pieces. 

He also learned to spot for archers first, after taking an old, rusted arrow straight to the thigh. 

That kind of wound was pretty much guaranteed to cause horrible infection unless you got magical healing. Ah, the wonders of having a mage around at all times. 

All in all, the actual trip up Sundermount wasn't exactly non-eventful, but frankly speaking, despite their numbers, the undead corpses were a far less danger than the bandits that haunted the broken coast. 

There were wounds for all of them, big and small, but the simple fact was that you'd need to suffer a pretty massive blow for Bethany not to be able to just patch you up. 

\---

Finally, after two grueling hours, they finally reached the damned caves. 

As they reached them, Hawke was utterly sick, and tired, of the disgusting smell of the blood of the undead. She was also absolutely coated in blood, which wasn't helping her mood much. 

That feeling was only amplified as they entered the cave, and what do you know, the smell of blood attracted spiders. Giant, fucking spiders the size of bears. 

Holy shit she hated this mountain. 

About the only good thing about this place so far was the damned place so far was the fact that Carver for once wasn't bitching and moaning at her. That was kinda weird, but she chalked it up to him not being familiar with undead corpses bearing down on him. 

Usually, when they fought giant spiders, Carver always made some snide remarks about the fact that killing the blasted monsters was for once, a task that he excelled at much better than she did. 

Spiders, unless they were corrupted by the blight, or of the kind that was the size of a small building, were not a threat to someone in plated steel, as their big ass fangs simply broke against the armor. 

Add that, alongside a giant sharp sword, and he had both the Reach, and the protection to slaughter the giant arachnids with reckless abandon, while she had to weave and dodge their lunges, and having to worry about Bethany and Varric being swarmed by the things. 

Merrill on the other hand used a strange kind of magic to coat herself in stone armor. 

It was a kind of magic she'd never seen before, but while it greatly put a halt to her mobility, it did a rather remarkable job of protecting her against the damned spiders. 

They fought and butchered their way through the caves until suddenly, they came upon a room with a fucking campfire, a bench, and a book on it. 

They stared at it for a moment, the sight of a burning campfire, seeming utterly surreal in this environment. 

"Trap?" 

"Oh yeah. Fucking trap, I'm sure. There are demons who lure people with entrancing sights, then when you fall asleep by them, they butcher you."

"Oh, no this isn't a demon's work." Merrill said as she lumbered up behind them, her stone-covered limbs making sure she lagged a bit behind. 

"This campfire was made long ago by a human scholar, who created it to burn forever. Not sure about the book though, no stories mention it, that I've heard."

"A human scholar trekked up Sundermount, and made a magical campfire in the middle of the mountain?" 

"Yes."

"Whyyy? What possible reason could anyone have for doing that?" 

"Well, they wanted to study the Silverite veins."

She motioned with a stone-covered hand towards the wall, where Hawke only now realized was glimmering in the light of the enchanted campfire. 

Her breath caught, as she saw the sight ahead of her. 

Massive veins glowing with a silver glow were crossing all along the walls like a mad painter's work on canvas. 

She stepped forward to inspect it, followed quickly by Varric who did the same. 

Silverite. 

Pure Silverite was crisscrossing through the walls, with frequency and volume. 

"You've got to be shitting me."

Hawke was more silent as her hand went over the massive lines of silver. 

"Are you seriously telling me the most cursed and hated mountain in thedas is brimming with Silverite?" 

"Yes, it does. We haven't been exploring the side paths, but they are also teeming with Silverite too."

"Now there's a cursed venture if I ever saw one. Huh… I could actually use that in a story, come to think of it."

"Wait… you're a storyteller Mr. Dwarf? Oh, I'm sorry, I just realized I didn't ask your names, Just Hawke's."

"Eh, it's fine Daisy. I'm Varric by the way."

"Carver. Carver Hawke. I mean, that's my name." Carver exclaimed quickly, in A very stilted manner, only exaggerated by his enclosed, steel helmet. 

"And I'm Bethany Hawke."

"To answer your question Daisy, I'm actually a novelist." 

"Oh, you write books then? I've never met someone who writes books before."

Varric was saying something, but Hawke didn't listen much to the conversation, instead focusing on the Silverite in front of her. 

Silverite was a very, valuable, and useful metal. It was much harder than steel and sharper than most other kinds of metal. There was a reason why it was considered the most useful standard metal. I goring the fact that it was poisonous to darkspawn, the metal was just great for war. 

It made the absolute best shields there were, being lighter, yet also much more durable than steel. Those same qualities also making them perfect for armor. 

As for edge, there were sharper metals out there, but with Silverite, you could make a blade that would cut through regular steel and iron. 

Sure there were metals like starmetal, white steel, or volcanic Aurum, that were both stronger and sharper than Silverite, but the thing about all of those was that you couldn't find any reliable way to mine them. 

White steel was an alloy that required materials that just weren't found much in the world, volcanic Aurum was… Well, Volcanic, and as such, you had to cross the western approach, and the poisonous sulfur-filled wastelands to find places to mine it and starmetal… Well, starmetal fell from the sky. 

Silverite by comparison could be mined, and though you needed much more effort to make something out of it than regular steel, it was still a metal you could mass produce. One of the main reasons Orlais was the dominant power of southern thedas, was the fact that they controlled the largest Silverite mines on the continent. 

And as it turned out, right by Kirkwall, was one massive source of the metal as well. 

So much potential… And so much effort that would be required to fully cleanse this mountain to make mining it viable. 

Such a waste…

Kirkwall's incredibly close proximity to this incredible source of the most useful of weapons, was as if a microcosm of just how much wasted potential the city was. 

Kirkwall had the potential to become a great power, perhaps the greatest in the free marches. It was easily protected from the northern free marches by steep mountains, and it's only competitor along the coast was Ostvick and Navarra. 

The Teyrnir of Ostwick was a tiny power in the free marches, one that for most of it's existence had been worried about being annexed by it's cultural homeland of Ferelden, while Navarra's expansionist ambitions had always laid more along the great river. 

Kirkwall realistically had no rivals to challenge it's grip of the south coast of the free marches. Yet through blustering bad leadership, the city had lost control over almost it's entire nation, except the capital city, and a few smaller cities along the coast. 

There was so much untapped potential in Kirkwall. So much untapped power that was allowed to flow into the sea, which was the only thing Kirkwall actually did dominate. 

This nation could be great. It could be as amazing as Ferelden had been under king Marik's great leadership. 


	7. Flemeth

Finally, after two hours of butchering giant spiders and walking up through tunnels in the mountainside, carved by long-dead elves, Hawke and company stumbled out the exit near the top of the mountain. 

Though all of them were dirty, filthy, and covered in ichor and blood, Hawke in particular was absolutely drenched in the body fluids of the fucking spiders. 

She was not having a good day. And judging by his silence, neither was carver. 

"Finally. Out of the dank, damp, dusty caves and into the misty haunted sunlight of the cursed mountain."

"And thank the Maker for that. Now we just gotta place the amulet on the altar, and we get to trek back down again. Truly this has been an enticing and prosperous day."

As they walked out to bask in the sunlight, everyone had different reactions. 

Hawke stretched, a truly pissed look at her face, but it softened as she looked up the path to the left. 

Varric was also looking up the path with Bianca slung over his shoulder, and an intrigued expression on his face. 

Bethany let go of the large bag filled with heads and insignias, that she had been carrying up against the mountain wall, and followed her big sister's example, and began stretching. 

Carver kept his silence, and just looked at Merrill, as she began walking up the pathway, only stopping once she noticed the rest was just taking a moment to breathe.

"What, you wanna just keep on going, Merrill?" 

"Asha'bellanar is waiting for us. I doubt she would look kindly upon us for delaying at the very last minute."

Hawke and Varric just sighed, but Bethany seemed taken aback. 

"You keep saying we're keeping her waiting. Is… Flemeth actually here then? Waiting for us just up ahead?" 

That question sure got everyone's attention, as all eyes turned to Merrill. 

"Maybe… She most certainly knows we are here though, so we should hurry as fast as we can."

"Yes, we wouldn't want to keep the dragon waiting for us." Hawke sighed with a resigned look on her face. "Let's just go and get this over with."

About 4 minutes later, they reached the spot they were aiming for. A massive, massive graveyard. Only one problem. 

In front of the entrance was a bright, blue-shimmering wall. 

"A magic barrier. Great. Seems to be ice-based judging from the color. So, we're gonna need a really big fireball to break it. You up for it Bethany?" 

"I… I'm not sure. I've… Used a LOT Mana today sis."

"That's fine." Merrill chimed in, as she stepped forward towards the barrier. "I can open the way forward, just a moment. 

Oh, so she was skilled with fire as well? So far today, Hawke had only seen her throw about stones, which seemed to be her default method of fighting. 

Then, Merrill pulled out a knife, before slitting it across her palm. 

Then, sheathing the blade she raised her staff, and with a flash of bloody red, accompanied by a loud, splintering sound, the barrier shattered into Tiny little pieces, like a glass window that had just been hit by a catapulted bounder. 

For a moment there was just silence as everyone just stared at her in various states of surprise, and shock until finally, Bethany took the word. 

"I just felt the veil shift. You called something here, are you INSANE?" 

"Yes, it was blood magic. But I know what I'm doing, the spirit helped us didn't it?" 

Her tone was defensive, which was not surprising, given that little display would have gotten her executed in most places in the world. Including the new Elvhenan. Which… made a few pieces fall into place inside Hawke's head. 

"Sure demons are very helpful, right up until the moment they possess you and turn you into an abomination." 

Yes… that does happen. But it won't here. I know how to defend myself."

"Sure. Let's just add an elvhen blood mage to the list of my associates. Maybe I should get a Qunari too, then this party would have all races in it."

"Oh, thank you. I was afraid you'd make a fuss about it." Merrill turned her head and looked past where the magical barrier had just been. "Be carefully up ahead. Restless things prowl the heights."

Hawke considered continuing this conversation, but sighed. 

She just… Really wanted to just get this all over with. 

As they stepped through the spot the blue light had just occupied, they came upon a massive graveyard. Hawke could tell this had been an enclosed room once, with a roof and everything. 

The way the stones were lined up at the sides, all of them immaculately formed in the shape of walls, along with tons of stones that had fallen down from above. 

Most of the damage to this place had been from the passage of time and countless days of rain, but she could tell that a lot of it was not. 

In particularly not around the altar at the very end of the graveyard, which was not covered in stone at all, which meant that nothing had fallen unto it from above. But the stone besides it… 

Something had destroyed everything around it in a pattern that Hawke immediately recognized as a magical explosion. One that had seemingly happened at the altar, which seemed completely untouched by everything, whether it be battle, time, or weather. 

As they stepped through the graveyards, she noticed the sight of dead hands and legs sticking out through the stones all around. 

A lot of them. 

Like, thousands and thousands. 

Well for once, they shouldn't have too many problems. 

Even if the dead did rise as possessed corpses here, they would have to get out from under the stones. 

Unless they all rose as remnants, that wasn't gonna happen. 

Still, Hawke was cautious as they made their way through the graveyard. 

Which meant that she saw it, as right at the altar, a figure rose from the ground itself. 

Not Like undead did, where they ripped themselves up, and out of the ground. No, this one just kinda glided up from the floor itself, like it had just been waiting just underneath the stone. 

The figure at first glance just looked like a tall undead that was wearing a fancy, purple robe, and a tall, visored conical helmet on it's head, hiding most of it's features besides the skeletal jaw. 

Hawke however, knew better. 

She moved immediately, surging forward with a burst of speed like a cat that just jumped from it's hiding spot and prepared to take down it's prey. 

Rarely though, had Hawke felt less like a predator. 

The arcane horror raised it's hands. 

One pointed at a selection of fallen stones, and the other straight at Hawke. 

Hawke darted to the side, a bolt of purple lighting missing her, instead slamming into Merrill, who had just resummoned her stony armor.

The force of the blow took the elf straight in the stone-covered chest and hit her with such force that she was sent flying through the air, all the way back into the mountainside, slamming into it like a Boulder. 

She hit the ground hard, and with a groan of pain, the armor began disintegrating into small pebbles around her. 

The pride demon that had taken control over the long-dead elvhen mage made a sharp sideways movement with it's other hand as Hawke hit it. 

The two daggers buried themselves into it's chest. But Hawke didn't stop there, instead ripping them out again, and burying them into the demon's head. 

The monster cried out and spasmed. But she didn't stop. She kept stabbing it again, and again, until the thing's physical body, finally disintegrated with a moan of pain, leaving behind a robe and various other pieces of clothing. 

For a second she just stood there, panting as the thing died in front of her. 

Then 3 arrows took her straight in the back. 

One of them took her straight into the arm, making Hawke scream, while the others bounced off the metal center of her armor. 

Quickly she vaulted herself over the altar, swearing all the way as the pain of the arrow was biting. 

It had been a while since she had taken a true injury. 

Resisting the instinctual wish to rip the arrow out, Hawke quickly peeked out from the side of the altar. 

She got a very quick look at the situation before she had to dart back as 3 more arrows shot forward trying to impale her. 

What had just happened, was that the arcane horror had telekinetically lifted up Quite a few rocks, and hurled them off the mountainside, freeing up every single dead elf beneath. 

Maybe about 30 of them. 

This was going to be a long, brutal endeavor. 

Hawke immediately pulled out a small container out of her belt. 

The grenade went sailing over the altar right at the 3 archers that were trying to kill Hawke with bows glowing with green, fade energy in place of strings. 

Instead, a tall warrior grabbed it out of the air. However, given it broke as he did, all the dead elf managed to do about it was to make him, and 4 other guys who were around him, explode into fire as well. 

Another grenade was lobbied shortly afterward, and this one did hit it's mark, making the archers, as well as another warrior, burst into flames. 

That was it for Hawke's alchemical arsenal though. 

From there, she would have to do with swords and daggers. Well, one dagger. Her pierced arm was working quite right at the moment. 

\---

Carver had only one advantage in this fight. 

He had armor and a sword that didn't break when he hit something with it. 

The blasted monsters were many, but they did have the distinct disadvantage that their arms and armor were almost completely rusted away. 

Every time he clashed with their blades, his long obsidian sword would hold, while theirs would explode into dust, leaving them wide open for a cut through their armor, which also burst apart every time he hit them. 

Unfortunately, there were still the bloody numbers to worry about. And the two mages he had to guard. 

Merrill was lying on the floor, barely moving after being hit by the lightning, while Bethany was trying to heal her, leaving the fighting to him and Varric. 

Up above Daemona was of course dealing with a gaggle of undead of her own, but as he blocked a sword strike that would have cleaved the dwarf's head, he wasn't in any position to worry about his sister right now. 

Not that she needed his bloody help. She never did. 

He had to constantly move from side to side, making sure no bloody undead managed to get past him, until out of nowhere, a hammer slammed straight into his left ribs. 

The hammer did explode into pieces l, but the spiked tip did crush 2 of his left ribs.

He immediately slammed his sword sideways, hitting the thing that had just crushed two of his bones. 

He did cleave straight through it… only for the guy who he had suddenly stopped fighting to respond to the hammer blow, to hit him straight over the head with a sword. 

His helmet held, but he was thrown to the ground, and he saw stars swimming in front of his eyes, a sharp pain suddenly having shot through his skull. 

A series of mechanical twangs sounded above, as Varric unloaded shot after shot into the undead. 

Then, with a thundering crash, a lightning bolt shot out above him, blinding him for a moment. 

The sound of battle, ceased and he felt something wrap around him, and quickly lift him from the ground and up on his feet. 

"Are you alright?" a concerned female Voice asked. 

For a few moments, he just blinked, before slowly his sight returned. 

"Ye-Yeah, I'm Fine."

"Oh, good, I was afraid that blow had cracked your skull."

He winced as the pain in his ribs really set in, as whatever it was that had been holding him up let him go. 

"Mostly the ribs that hurts… I-I mean, I'm Fine. Nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah, I'm sure you can just walk off cracked ribs little Hawke. You probably should just take it easy until Bethany has finished patching up Hawke."

He frowned, a hand instinctively shooting up to cradle his side as the pain really shot in as he turned to look in Hawke's direction, then froze. 

At her feet, Hawke had laid low about a dozen undead warriors by the altar. 

She also had an arrow in the arm, and a sword sticking out of her right leg, just below the groin. 

The sight of his sister being genuinely wounded completely took him aback, making him miss the fact that She'd killed about 2 times more undead than her. 

Daemona was sitting on the altar, breathing slowly past bloodied lips as Bethany was beginning her healing. 

The sight was so shocking in fact that he didn't even notice as a vine closed around his helmet and only realized it as a pair of hands came under his chin and fumbled with the strap under the chin. 

"What are you-" Then he realized it was Merrill. He froze immediately, which let her finish opening the strap, and the vine lifted his helm above his head. 

Her hand went up and touched the side of his head carefully. 

"Hmmm… No blood, so that's a good sign. Still, with a head blow, you must let your sister have a look. I'd do it myself, but I'm Not very good with healing magic."

"Too busy mastering the art of turning things to ash with lightning?" Varric popped in. 

"Well… Yes. Lightning is much more complex than fire and ice you know. You need a lot of Mana to pull it off."

"That or blood it would seem."

"There is nothing wrong with blood magic Varric. All blood magic is, is powering up regular magic to A massive degree. Healing, elemental spells, spells to affect gravity… there is nothing wrong with using blood magic. So long as the mage isn't dumb enough to let the spirit into their head freely anyway. Then there isn't much to be done for them. Well… You could use blood magic to cleanse them I suppose, but that's very dangerous as well."

"Wait… You can cure demonic possession with blood magic?" 

"Well yes. That's… not usually the option when a keeper is possessed, but it can be done."

"Huh. Well, that's… Interesting to know. Still, I wouldn't recommend talking about blood magic in Kirkwall, Daisy. Most people… Aren't exactly very open-minded about it there."

"I know. Huh. Are you feeling well carver? You look very sick, your face being as red as it is."

Varric also turned took, and his blasted face got a sly, amused look. 

Which just made carver's cheeks redder, as his gut felt that oh so familiar sting of humiliation from the dwarf's knowing smile. 

\---

Finally, Bethany was finished patching up her leg. And after giving Carver some sweet, sweet healing magic, and burning every single corpse that had risen out of the rubble, they finally got around to what they had actually come to do. 

The damned ritual. 

Merrill put the thing on the altar, then said some words in elvish Hawke did not understand. 

Then a vortex of bright yellowish-orange engulfed the entirety of the altar area they were standing on! 

As Merrill quickly stepped back, the shape of a figure of seething gold materialized on the altar, then cracks began to form in the immaculate gold, the golden glow quickly fading, and the vortex around them dying out before suddenly, it faded. 

And before them stood a woman Hawke had only met once before. 

Tall, dressed in a mage dress of brigandine and silk, with a boob window in front showcasing her cleavage. Down her back, a long flowing mane of the purest white, while behind her, a couple of horns that could either be actual dragon horns hidden under the hair, or just parts of her hair styled like the horns of her dragon form. 

Her face was clearly that of an older woman, but she was by no means an unattractive lady. Quite on the contrary, with her tall, yet filled-out figure, her alluring clothing, and mature face, Flemeth, Witch of the wild was quite the beauty for a woman who was older than Ferelden itself. 

The woman still eradicated that same, aura of power and mystery she had the last time Hawke had seen her. The aura of a high dragon in human form. 

Her eyes met Hawke's and a smile formed on her face. 

"Ahhh…. And here we are."

Merrill quickly knelt in a strange way before Flemeth, on her knees, yet hands out to the sides, like she was both kneeling, and curtseying at the same time. 

She said something Hawke did not understand, though she caught the name Asha'bellanar amongst the words. 

Flemeth was apparently pleased with the homage, and as she spoke her tone was rather satisfied. 

"One of the people I see. So young and so bright… Do you know who I am beyond that title?" 

"I know only a little." 

"Then stand. The people bend their knees too quickly."

Her eyes turned back to Hawke. 

"It's refreshing to see someone uphold their end of a bargain. I half expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket. 

"No one wanted to buy it. Maybe because there was a witch inside."

Flemeth grinned. 

"Just a piece. A small piece, but it was all I needed. A bit of security, should the inevitable occur. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

"Is that someone I should know?"

She's someone who thinks she knows what is best better than I or anyone."

Suddenly an image popped into Hawke's head, of a woman with black hair up in a bun, strong imperious, yet feminine features, and eyes the same color as Flemeth. 

"And why not? I raised her to be as she is, I shouldn't expect her to be less." 

The image immediately faded. 

"From that description, I'm sure if she's your daughter or your enemy."

"Neither is she."

Hawke deeply wanted to delve further into who this Morrigan was but instinct told her to aim elsewhere instead. 

"So… Not that I wasn't grateful you saved me and all back in Ferelden but… Why did you need me to bring you here? You can fly, you'd have gotten here much quicker if you'd just flown."

"Because I had an appointment to keep. And because I didn't want to be followed. You smuggled me here, quietly and nicely."

Her eyes narrowed and turned to Hawke. 

"Let us hope my resurgence remains so. Quiet."

"What, you're worried I'd put this to paper? Chapter 7, and then the amulet the whole plot was built around turned out to be the legendary witch of the wilds, Flemeth herself! I'm good, but even I'm not good enough to make that sound plausible. Nobody would buy it."

"Morrigan would… But perhaps you're right. In any case, best not to find out."

"Right… My lips are sealed, my lady."

Hawke wasn't exactly sure how serious Varric was with that promise, but she decided to move on to other questions she wanted to be asked.

"So… You are the real Flemeth right? Not just a vision or something like that?"

The old witch laughed like someone was tickling her rear. 

"Must I be in only one place? Bodies are such limited things." 

Then her tone got serious. 

"I am but a fragment cast adrift from the whole. A bit of flotsam to cling to in the storm."

"A fragment?"

"You do not need to understand, child. Just know that you might have saved my life, just as I saved yours. An even trade, I think."

"You have plans then?"

"Destiny awaits us both girl. We have much to do. Yours is to hammer the many pieces to one. Mine is my own to keep. But before I go, a word of advice."

Flemeth turned and looked out over the cliff, northwards towards the Vimmark mountains in all their Stark glory. 

"We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly"

"Cheap advice from a dragon."

She laughed. 

"We all have our challenges. Nevertheless, watch for that moment. If you reach it and fail to take it, you will forever regret missing your chance to soar. It will cling to your soul. Take it from Someone who knows regrets well."

Then in a flash, Flemeth changed. She became a fully grown reddish-purple high dragon, with wings so large could have been sails.

With a mighty jump, she vaulted off into the sky and took flight, a dragon against the clear blue sky. 

"Well, that was quite a bit more out there than I imagined this partnership would turn out."

She chuckled. 

"What, you weren't expecting to see giant dragons? Stick around, knowing my terrible luck, we'll actually have to fight one at some point."

"Now, won't that make for an interesting tale."

"Yes, glory, excitement, and adventure for all. Very fun. Almost as fun as it's gonna be to trek down the mountain again drenched in blood."

\---

It took them only 2 hours to get down. 

The Dalish were generous enough to let them use their facilities(namely an oversized waterproof wooden crate) to clean themselves and their clothing, on the condition that they conjured their own water. 

Luckily for them, Bethany's waterskin(That had originally belonged to father) allowed them to fill the entire thing without worrying about Bethany's completely drained Mana resources. 

Water conjuring tools were one of the most important inventions in the history of thedas. Whether they be massive water reservoirs for cities or just a canteen for a company of soldiers, it was the difference between life and death by way of dysentery. 

You could tell the importance of a town on whether or not it used a well, or it was actually important enough to have a magical water source. 

The only bad thing about all of it was that they got dressed, they had to wear their now semi-clean clothing wet. Had they been in Ferelden and it had been any other season but summer, that would have been hell. But this was the free marches with its warm breeze, and hot sun so it really wasn't that big of a problem. 

All 3 of them had marched with wet boots and clothing before, so it wasn't like it was a new experience. 

As they exited the tent they had used to clean themselves up, they spotted Varric, Merrill, and the keeper. 

The latter two who seemed to be talking about something as the siblings approached. 

"It's not too late to change your mind, Dalen. I can still convince King Garahel to allow you to return."

Merrill wearing an uncharacteristic look of sadness and seriousness shook her head. 

"Darath shiral keeper."

She then turned to Hawke and the rest. 

"Are you ready to leave as well?"

"Oh we are. It'll feel great to get back to Kirkwall." she turned her head to the keeper "I assume my debt has been cleared?". 

"It has. In full. Farewell child. I suspect we will meet again soon enough."


	8. Population numbers and History of Thedas - Kirkwall, and Ferelden

Population numbers and History of Thedas - Kirkwall, and Ferelden

An exact number of just how many souls call Thedas home is a rather imprecise art, and due to drastic developments in the many nations of the continent, any number a scholar might dig up is likely to change. for example, as i will cover in the section detailing Ferelden, one single catastrophically bad period can drastically reduce the population number, and in turn there is not guarantee that this loss will in time be reversed.

There is also the fact that the world was far, far more populated before the first blight, in which all the races of Thedas was brought to the very brink of extinction. since then, blight's have come and gone, and though no one has claimed nearly as many lives, they have and will depopulate kingdoms wherever they happen.

Kirkwall:

No other place do we have a clearer picture of exactly just how many people used to live in Thedas, than the City State of Kirkwall, The white City of chains.

At the height of the Tevinter imperium, the city was the beating heart of the slave trade of the only human empire to ever rule all of Thedas, and the Tevinter's were kind enough to document exactly how many slaves the city contained every year. At it's peak, the city of Kirkwall contained no less than an astonishing million slaves inside its walls, meaning that more people lived inside of Kirkwall than there are people in all of Modern Ferelden. And this number is only counting the slaves. assuming that modern hightown and old hightown have similar numbers, you can add another 20 000 souls on top of that.

Compared to that, Kirkwall's modern population of only 400 000 souls is rather low, as its not even half of what it could have been.

The reason for this has many causes, but it can basically be attributed to terribly bad luck, both in geopolitics, economy, and in leadership.

Originally know as Emerius, the city was renamed to its current name of Kirkwall in -25 Ancient, after a slave revolt finally obliterated the Tevinter magisters who ruled the city. While the decade following its newly won independence was a state of anarchy, it was an important period of the nation's history as it's people had to figure out where they would go from there after the outlawing of slavery.

The path they settled on, was abandoning the old for a completely new business. Emerius had been an important city, not just for the slave trade, but also for its jet black stone, which had been used to make temples all across the empire, but it was also the source of plenty of Iron. And it was this Iron that was to be the basis for where Kirkwall would go next. For the white city of chains, would remake itself from an exporter of slave labour and stone, to becoming the greatest arms maker in the known world.

And it would do so, very, very well, quickly establishing itself as a great power in the free marches, certainly one to rival the emerging Orlesian empire to the west. Said Empire would also be extremely important in its economy, as any trade from Orlais to the east had to pass through Kirkwall, either through its waters, or through its two passess northwards. Even after Orlais took control over modern Navarra, it still remained the most used spot for trade, simply due to controlling the sea, as well as being an incredibly well sheltered city from storms, which never reaches its docks thanks to the great islands flanking its 3 sea entrances.

And so, Kirkwall became the undisputed rulers of the southern coast, and established countless farms around the lands to its east, and 2 other great cities along the coast.

To the East, at the eastern end of the wounded coast, at the mouth of Dagger river, lies Sisko's shield, the city of Defiance as some called it. It dominated the mouth of the dagger, and with it, it controls the pass to the north that is usually used as the spot where trade between Kirkwall and Starkhaven passes through.

To the west, at an island near the edge of Kirkwall territory lied the now abandoned city of Kathryn, founded and named after Queen Katrhyn the second, a city orignially mean to defend Kirkwall against any naval attacks from Orlais. In practise however, the island city was generally used as a relaxation spot for Kirkwall's elite, along with a booming fishing industry. During the later Orlesian Occupation, the city was renamed Pircardie, after the baron who was put as it's new ruler. To this day, though the city has long since been abandoned, the Orlesian's and the Kirkwallers violently refuse to accept the name the other has given the now abandoned city, and both nations have made claim to the island, though current viscount Marlowe Dumar recently put an end to that, by simply buying the island for 25 sovereigns, in a move that got the Orlesians to finally stop making claims on the island, but made many people in Kirkwall very, very angry that he acknowledged that the Orlesians have ever had a claim to it.

Kirkwall's glory age was a long,and prosperous one, as it established complete control over the southern coast, and with the woods of the great Planasene forest in the city state's western territories, it constructed an enormous navy, that brought more, and more wealth and far dwarfed any navy any other southern powers had to offer.

Alas, all good things must eventually come to an end. And the beginning of decline came during the fourth blight. Though the city itself managed to avoid the fate of being sacked and its population put to the torch by the Darkspawn, its territories were not so lucky. Sisko's shield, or the defiant City, got it's moniker during this period, as this city, made to dominate travel to Starkhaven, was put to the siege by the darkspawn, and though the city was never besieged by the kind of overwhelming horde as Hossberg was, a horde of no less than 10 000 darkspawn put its defences to the test with countless assaults. The siege began in 5:18 Exalted, and it did not end until the end of the fourth Blight in 5:24 Exalted. The city, which had up until that point simply been governed by a comtesse, was granted the title of Dukedom in honor of its amazing defence against the horde, and became the official capital of Kirkwall's eastern lands.

However, while the cities of Kirkwall managed to survive the blight just fine, the same could not be said of its farmlands.

Every single farm in Kirkwall's territories was put to the sword by the Darkspawn, whether it be along its lush and prosperous eastern farmlands, or the lands that had been carved out of the Planasene forest. This would have dire consequences for the nation, and though it took only a decade or two before the blight's effect on the land had been washed away by rain, the city would not ever fully recover this devastating loss. a large part of this, was that Kirkwall had never truly bothered investing in a road network. During it's height, it had never needed more than basic, simple dirt roads, and most travel to its center's happened over sea.

This was in hindsight, a critical mistake, as said simple roads had been obliterated by the darkspawn, and by the time new settlers had moved in to try and retame the land, what remained of both them, and the destroyed farmland, had been reclaimed by the wilderness once more. Without roads, it was hard to easily move in new settlers, and more importantly, it was expensive. And so, rather than focus on retaking it's farmland as quickly as possible, Kirkwall instead let farmers invest as they would, planning to let them reestablish the farmland over a passage of time, as the city originally had done. The city mostly got it's food through trade and fishing anyway, so retaking the farmland was not considered a top priority by the Kirkwall nobles.

This marked a point where Kirkwall stopped fielding a true army itself, and instead began relying on mercenaries, with a company of Kirkwall Knight's to bolster them.

Then, two Ages later, the Qunari would come. The Qunari launched a massive invasion of all of thedas, with the ultimate goal of complete dominance over all of Thedas. in 7:53 Storm, the city of Sisko's shield was put to siege, and in a 7 month's long siege, that city's population was utterly devastated by the Qunari cannons. By the end when the decisive assault came, the city which had held off the fourth blight, and once had a population of 100 000 people in it, was utterly decimated, with less than 35 000 people still living inside of it. And by the time they would be liberated, the population had been decimated once more, not by death, but instead by its proud population having been reduced to mindless laborers by the qunari, who had destroyed their mind and their resistance with poison. Less than 10 000 people with their mind intact. remained of what had once been Kirkwall's second largest city.

7:56 Storm however, was the year where Kirkwall, to the surprise of all, Human and Qunari alike, fell to a surprise night assault by the Qunari forces, who used their caged mages to break down its eastern wall.

What followed was the decisive moment where Kirkwall fell from a great power, to just another city state in the free marches. The occupation was hard, brutal, and though not nearly as devastating as the destruction of Sisko's Shield, it was nonetheless crushing, both on the economy, and the population. The Qunari destroyed all of Kirkwall's wealth, by taking every single coin in the city, and dumped it into the waking sea. The savage giants do not have an economy, so this only made perfect sense. as for the population, the nobility was almost all exterminated, and its common folk was put to work in the same quarries that had long ago been mined by the slaves that were their ancestors. And worst of all, was that the great arms making forges of Kirkwall was put to use for Qunari armies instead. All the while the faith of Andraste was brutally suppressed, and all the populace was being forced to convert to the Qun.

During this period, most of the farmlands of Kirkwall was completely abandoned after the fall of Kirkwall itself, as its populace chose to flee the country entirely, rather than submit to the Qun. And thus, Kirkwall once and for all, lost control over its farmlands, which to this day remains largely unsettled.

The occupation lasted four years, until 7:60 Storm, where it was liberated by an army sent by the Orlesian Empire, under the leadership of the chevalier Michel Lafaille, who annexed the entirety of Kirkwall into the empire, and was declared it's first viscount, reducing it from a kingdom, to a Viscounty, though today few Kirkwallers remain who complain about it, for the line of Lafaille was extremely popular in Kirkwall, and provided excellent leadership until the family was exterminated by the Imperial Crown in 8:04 Blessed, for charges that Kirkwall generally regarded as complete lies. In response, the city, and all the lands that had belonged to the Lafaille's as Viscounts of Kirkwall rose up in a war of Independence.

The war was relatively short, and lasted only a year, however, it would have drastic consequences for the City state. The largest consequence was the sack and complete destruction of Kathryn, which the Orlesians managed to take with heavy losses early into the war, only to be informed the Kirkwallers had obliterated the bulk of the Orlesian navy at sea, thus making their victory all but assured. In an act of spite, Chevalier Charles Verdun, put the entire island to the sword, and his knights killed, slaughtered, burned and raped as they pleased until not a single soul remained on the island. He then left, and marched back to the imperial capital, where he was welcomed as a hero, as opposed to the naval leadership who was scorned for losing the war.

For this act, various rich folk of Kirkwall would hire assassins to kill not only ser Charles, but also his entire family, until the entire family went extinct.

After losing their navy, Orlais singed a peace treaty, and acknowledged the Viscounty of Kirkwall(who had chosen to keep the title to honor the Lafaille family) as an independent state.

The blessed age however, would not be a time for prosperity for Kirkwall.

In 8:14, the first new family of Viscount's went extinct, due to an outbreak of Cholera. And with them, went the only ones who could claim direct legitimate descent from the Lafaille family. The next decades would see power struggles, after power struggles, where Viscount after Viscount was crowned, killed, replaced, crowned, killed, replaced, again and again, until finally, in 8:34, Viscount Duncan Dwayne, finally managed to get the city state under reasonable control. He was also the Viscount that established the law that if a Viscount dies without an heir, then the Nobles would elect a new dynasty.

He managed his reign relatively well until he died in 8:42. His son Arthur would manage well for 3 years, until a catastrophe devastated Kirkwall's economy. For it was at this point, that the lucrative Iron mines under the City finally ran out.

While in the long term this was a problem that was overcome, as his successors would simply begin to import large amounts of iron to keep the production of steel arms going, in the short term, it devastated the economy of Kirkwall as the forges stopped making arms. And Poor Arthur got the blame. He lasted 7 months. His son was a child, so the regent was his sister. Neither lasted more than 2 years before they died in "accidents".

After that, the city state would go through a series of short dynasties, none of whom managed to rule well, nor for long. The most notable of these however, was Viscount Gamlen Rhod, who made the mistake of granting the Templar order Full control over the Island fortress of the Gallows(located in the Kirkwall Harbor). This was a mistake on his part, as it allowed the templars to solidify a very strong foothold in the city, and through them, allowed Orlais to have large power in the city state through them.

In the end, this was shown very clearly with the tale of viscount Perrin Thenhold, a man who tried to to reverse this control of the Chantry and Templars, and in the end, his entire reign was rewritten to be a tale of a cruel, vicious tyrant who was the worst ruler Kirkwall had ever seen, though every single interview i've had with people who actually knew him, tells the tale of a man who was genuinely good natured, competent leader, if one who was utterly ruthless against his enemies, and determined to see his nation restored to glory.

Following him came Marlowe Dumar 9:21 Dragon. His reign is one of indecisiveness, slowness to act, and deep unpopularity amongst his people, his nobles, and his enemies.

His most infamous move was when he granted 500 Qunari, including The Arishock himself, a dock quarter to stay in after he was shipwrecked following a storm. Needless to say, this move has not made him very many friends amongst anyone, except mayhaps the qunari, who is still there, one year later.

which brings us to the modern population of the Viscounty of Kirkwall. After having done the best research i can, i estimate that the City itself has some 400 000 thousand souls in its walls, another 20 thousand in Sisko's Shield, and some 60 000 in various coastal villages who acknowledge Kirkwall as its overlord.

Ferelden:

The Kingdom of Ferelden is often Stereotyped as a nation of barbarians, and poor folk. This is not exactly the case, but there is indeed some truth to it.

The center of the Kingdom is very fertile, and the bulk of the nation lives in the area, called the Bannorn. This is not the only fertile piece of land in the nation, but most of the rest of the land is composed of more hilly, or mountainous terrain, meaning that most farming takes place in small vales, dales, and valleys. The Fereldens are a proud people, descended from a people called the Alamarri, a larger people composed of 3 distinct larger groups. The Avvar, the Chasind, and the Clayne. The modern Ferelden is descended from the Clayne, who in ancient times defeated both their cousins the Avvar and the Chasind, and forced them out of modern Ferelden, into the mountains and the Swamps of the south, where their descendents still live today.

Estimating the exact number of Avvar and Chasind would have been practically impossible even in normal times, but now, after the Fifth Blight it is practically impossible. According to papers on the subject written before the Dragon Age began, there was an estimated 27 000 Avvar, and some 13 000 Chasind at the very end of the last age. The sources im quoting here is generally regarded as very much a book of guesswork, but it is all i have been able to find on the subject. Regardless, even if they were absolutely true, and the numbers had stayed the same all these decades later, the simple fact is that it would have been drastically lowered by the blight, to such a degree that i very much doubt there are more than mayhaps 10 000 Avvar left on the east side of the Frostback Mountains, and most certainly no more than somewhere between 4-6 000 Chasind left in the World.

As for the Ferelden's themselves, the exact number alive today is much easier to quantify, though historically speaking is is practically impossible to get a good number before the rise of Calenhad.

The region was never unified before The Rise of King Calenhad, a local Ferelden warlord, who through 20 long years of conquest finally managed to make all the nobles and smallfolk alike hail him as the supreme ruler of all Ferelden in 5:42 Exalted, but the region and its people existed long before the Silver Knight from Highever came along. Before Calenhad, the region was an especially violent one, where new lords rose and fell constantly, and unity was in short order. This as one can imagine, did not lead to a good and stable region, as countless lived, grew up, fought and died in countless wars of attempts at unification.

However, that came to an end at the rise Calenhad, who brought about an era of relative stability and peace, allowing the Ferelden's to begin a massive growth, which has lead to a nation that today has roughly a bit less than one third of the population of Mighty Orlais.

Over the Years, the small Kingdom began to grow, both in population, and in wealth. The latter especially was a result of them being the land in which Orzammar, the last great city of the dwarves(or so was assumed for near a millennia), which meant that they would trade directly with the dwarves, and always have a good trade income, regardless of other businesses failing or succeeding. and so, as the years went by, and the Ages came and went, Ferelden would make a slow, but very steady increase in population, wealth, and power.

This would come to an end with the second Orlesian Invasion of Orlais.

The second invasion of Orlais was a disaster for the local Ferelden population. The invasion of Ferelden has many causes, but the truth of the matter was that the Empire very much wanted to take control over Ferelden's trade with Orzammar, as well as bring its pretty central farm land under its control. It's horrors have been mythologized and in some regards over exaggerated by the kingdom, but it is historical fact that the nation did indeed face a massive decline. The Orlesians ruled Ferelden for 58 years, and at the start of the occupation there were roughly 1 400 000 Ferelden's. at the end of the population, that number had shrunk to only 9 000 00 souls. though it did kill more Ferelden's than the fifth Blight did, it must be understood that this happened over a longer period of time, and that unlike the blight, most of those who died were generally the older population, who Orlesians tended to treat the worst, for the simple reason that they no longer could slave away as Serfs in the field, and thus had little economic value for the occupiers. One common sight was Chevaliers who would once every five years round up the elderly and drive them on a grand human hunt in the woods. Or so the Ferelden stories goes.

however, in time, the Ferelden's did crush the Orlesian occupiers, and restored the line of Calenhad to the throne. And over the course of decades, the population began to bounce back, having gone up to a million human souls at the time of the fifth Blight.

Said blight would cause enormous devastation to the kingdom, and though the land was not ravaged to a degree that it will not recover with time like the Anderfels or the Western Approach, the total death toll of the nation is an estimated 100 000 people, almost one tenth of its entire population, and unlike the orlesian occupation, the devastation was not of one group in particular, but instead an indiscriminate slaughter of everyone, and every age.

One thing that must be remembered hower, is that this estimation of death is of souls no longer in Ferelden, not merely those who died in the blight. Thousands of Ferelden fled across the sea to the Free Marches. Exactly how many is hard to say, but it is fully possible that as much as 30 000 Ferelden's who were counted dead, instead managed to escape across the seas.

\---

Excerpt from "Population Numbers and History of thedas" by Thomas Dredolo.


	9. Interlude 1 - Merrill

Merrill liked the Hawke family. Especially the oldest one, Daemona, she had been very kind in helping her out with getting a hooded cloak to help hide her regular clothing beneath it. She'd also let her borrow a spear to carry around instead of her staff. 

It felt weird not being able to walk openly in her regular clothing. But it was what it was, she had known things would be very different once she left the clan. 

A spear across her shoulder, she made her way into the apartment the elder had assigned her in the alienage.

The alienage… 

It was a strange feeling to see the alienage in Kirkwall. 

Her thoughts on it were conflicted. 

On one hand, it was filthy, and squalid, and cramped. On the other hand, the sight of hundreds, and hundred of elves mingling about, doing their jobs, or just walking down the street filled Merrill with a feeling of… Joy? Happiness? Well, she wasn't sure what kind of feeling it was, but it was the same kind of feeling she had had when she saw New Arlethan for the first time. 

It was also the moment where it had crystallized for her that this path truly was right, even if… Even if it meant she would never get to see her kingdom ever again. 

There were some things that were more important than one singular elf. More important than her. 

As she knelt down in the corner of her apartment, she pulled out a shard of glass. 

The largest remaining piece of an Eluvian that had been the beginning of the end of two lives she had treasured dearly. 

Tamlen and Mahariel had been two of her clan's brightest hunters. All until one day, when exploring an old Elvhen ruin, they had stumbled upon a mirror in the depth of the old building. 

The mirror carried two legacies. 

One was of her people, and the other, of the most vile of beings. 

The mirror, an ancient artifact of her people from the days before the first empire fell, had been corrupted by the blight of the darkspawn, and had infected Tamlen and Mahariel. One had become a ghoul, and the other had only escaped that fate by becoming a Grey warden, and being lost to them forever. 

Mahariel had died a hero, at the claws of the Archdemon during the battle of Denerim. 

There was a statue of her outside the Royal Palace now, alongside the statue of the other elvhen Warden who died during the battle. 

The fact that she would be remembered as a hero did not do anything to make the loss when she had heard of it, hurt any less. 

And when the king had informed them of Tamlen's ultimate fate of having been put out of his misery by the party of Grey wardens during their travels, it had hurt even more. 

What hurt the Most though, was knowing that neither of them would get to live to see their new homeland rise. 

It was such a bitter taste, to know that had Mahariel just managed to live through the final battle, just managed to keep on living for a few minutes longer and seen the final defeat of the fifth blight, she would now get to see their people found a new nation. 

But… Mahariel was dead. And there was nothing to be done about that now. All they could do, was to honor her memory and make certain they would make the most of the land she had sacrificed all to make happen. 

The king had been the one to show her the way to do that. To honor Mahariel's sacrifice, and to let her people not only reclaim their past, but something of true, genuine worth from the days of old. 

The keeper had not known what the mirror was, and she had told Merrill to leave it behind in the ruins once they had departed the area at the beginning of the blight. 

She had said it was dangerous, and that it belonged in the past. 

The king had thought differently. 

He had made the clan guide him to the ruins to inspect the mirror itself, having heard much about it directly from Mahariel before she died. 

And unlike the Dalish, he had known what it was, and what it could be again… If they got it working once more. 

The broken mirror had been an Eluvian, an ancient artifact of incredible usefulness, which allowed anyone who had a working set, to travel between them instantly by simply stepping through the mirror. 

The king had been bitterly disappointed that the mirror had been corrupted by the blight, and for all his great knowledge of magic and lore, he had not known a way to cleanse it. 

And he had tried. A lot. 

He knew the way to regrow it from nothing, but without cleansing the mirror from the dark taint of the darkspawn, it was pointless. It would remain a poisonous mirror, restored or not. 

Merrill had kept a shard for herself, determined to succeed in the task. 

She understood the importance of this mirror. Of getting it working again. 

If they could not only manage to get the Eluvian working again, but also to create more of them… Well, that would change everything. 

It would mean instant travel anywhere. Trade, troop movements, information. It would all become instantaneous. It would mean that even if the clan ultimately failed to convince the Viscount to let the Elves go to their new homeland, she could simply have a mirror here, and in the middle of the night they could escape the alienage directly to new Elvhenan. 

So… She had taken drastic measures, and done something that would mean she would never be welcome home again. 

After their clan had volunteered to send their warriors as ambassadors to Kirkwall, Merrill had done something drastic. 

She had made her way up the mountain, and to the altar inside the temple at the very top, where a spirit of Wisdom was sealed. The most powerful of the beings that her people had summoned for their last stand. A spirit so powerful, the magisters who had come to defile Sundermount had not been able to slay it, merely bind it to a statue. 

And with his help, she had succeeded. 

She had managed to cleanse the mirror of Darkspawn taint. 

With blood magic. 

There was nothing wrong with blood magic, Merrill genuinely believed that. 

But, she understood the King's stance on the matter. 

New Elvhenan had to learn from the failure of the Dales if it was to survive, and part of that was to keep a good relationship with its only neighbor, the Kingdom of Ferelden. And the simple truth was that any nation of true followers of Andrade would refuse to accept any ally who allowed blood magic. 

And so, when the king had laid down her nation's laws, he had outlawed blood magic in any form on pain of death. 

Only the Grey wardens were exempt from that law, as their treaties with the order dictated. No one else was allowed to use it however. Ever. 

By doing so, she had sealed her fate as either an exile, or an executed criminal. 

Even if this worked out, the credit for this recovered eluvian would go to Marethari. Many People would know she had been the one to make it happen, but history books would not say so. They would remember her as a crazy blood mage, who abandoned her clan and nation. That was fine though. Merrill was not doing this to be remembered in songs, or in books. 

She was doing this for her people. She was doing this for Tamlen, for Mahariel, for Marethari, for her clan, for all the former city elves and Dalish who would benefit from her achievements. 

With that thought in mind, she began her work, the glow of the glass shard burning brightly, far, far into the night. 


	10. Aveline

There were many great, and glorious buildings in Kirkwall's Hightown, the most famous being it's famous grand chantry, the largest religious building in the free marches. It was a sore spot for the famously pious Tantervale, that Kirkwall's enormous cathedral was almost twice the size of it's own. 

Hawke had never liked it. 

The outside of the chantry's roofs and walls had enormous statues that had rested there since the days of old when Kirkwall had still been a slaver city of the monstrous Tevinter imperium. Huge ugly birds of prey and statues of Tevinter were not what should be decorating a temple of the maker in her opinion. 

She missed the Chantry of lothering, with it's sensible decorations and lack of decadence. 

Also dog imagery of Andraste's faithful mabari. She wouldn't see that outside of Ferelden she was sure. 

Today though, Hawke felt mightily good about herself, as she walked into the enormous chantry, carrying two large and very heavy bags slung across her shoulder, with Carver doing likewise behind her. 

Three of the bags were black at the bottom, where the blood that had seeped out of them had been drying, while the last one clinked and clanked as they walked into the holiest spot in the city. 

As she passed the gates, she saw several of the brothers and sisters shooting her worried looks, and as she made her way into the enormous main chamber of the buildings, she saw several Templar by doors tighten their weapons. 

She ignored them, the giant statues that flanked the sides of the building, and instead made her way over to a figure in glistening white armor, standing below one of the statues and lost in thought. 

The incredible shine told Hawke that the armor in question was made of White steel, which meant the man who wore it was rich as fuck. 

"Sebastian Vael?" 

The figure turned, his contemplative look turning to surprise as he saw who was talking. 

"We're here about that bounty you posted."

"Excuse me who are-? Wait, my post at the Chantry board? Her grace actually let that stay?" 

Hawke no idea what he was talking about, so she just gave a winning smile and replied. 

"Evidently so."

"Huh, I thought for sure no one even read… Alright then, so you wish to hunt the flint company."

Silence followed until Carver broke in. 

"A little bloody slow aren't you?" 

With a relieved grunt dropped both of the bags he had been carrying on the floor in front of Sebastian. 

"Oh don't mind my surely brother. He gets cranky easily. But he is correct, in that we're a step or sixty-three beyond hunting." 

She followed her brother's example and dropped the two bags she had been carrying on the floor as well. 

"Here are the heads and rank insignias of every one of the 63 members of the flint company, as your bounty requested."

Sebastian's eyes went wide as he looked down on the bags, then up at the two of them, then back at the bags.

Then he bent down over the clinking bag and opened it up, and after sticking his hand in, he pulled out a bunch of different badges, many covered in chalked and dried blood. 

Most of the clattered to the floor, but he held one up in front of his face and inspected it. 

"Incredible… And you did this in only three weeks?" 

"Oh no, we did this in two days. I just learned of the group's locations the day before yesterday."

His eyes once more went wide, but then a smile sprung to his lips as he got back on his feet. 

"You have my eternal gratitude, serah. It is comforting to think that my parents might now rest easily in their Graves."

"Well, I very doubt your parents care much at this point, but I hope you at least sleep easier now at least." 

"Thank you. More than I can say. I truly did not expect anyone but me to take up this cause."

He then fumbled out a money pouch, and with a start, Hawke saw that he plucked out 4 golden coins. 

"Consider this an advance, Serah. When I have secured my lands again, you will be paid royally."

It spoke to the sheer difference in wealth between the nobility and everyone else, that he did not consider 4 Sovereigns a large enough sum for a job well done. 

She took the four sovereigns with a steady hand and was most certainly not grinning like a schoolgirl as she put the coin in her pouch. 

Good… now, with all they had, she had roughly around 9 Sovereigns worth of coin

Almost one-fifth of the way there now. 

"Ah, but where are my manners? Might I ask your name Serah?"

"I'm Daemona Hawke."

"Hawke…. I have heard of that name before." 

"Yes, I would be rather surprised if you had not. It is a rather common bird of prey."

He smiled, then nodded his head. 

"I shall remember it, Serah Hawke. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must meet with the Viscount and ask him for a petition for aid to a fellow city."

And so it came to pass that Sebastian left for the Viscount's Palace, quickly followed by Hawke and Carver. 

5 minute's later, a poor sister of the Chantry would stumble across the bags on the floor that none of the three had cared much about anymore, and made the mistake of opening one to see what was inside. 

\---

"Well, you're in a bloody cheerful mood."

"Well, we can't all be sourly hounds like you Carver. Always eager to bark and make sounds. In any case, I don't need you more for the day."

"You don't need me anymore? What, you dragged me up here just to have a packhorse for the day?" 

"Oh cheer up Carver, we just got a huge sum of coin."

"Which we can't spend."

"You know the plan, Carver. For now, go! The day's free. Go have some fun or something. Go train, hang out in lowtown, enjoy yourself at the blooming rose. I know you still have that a month or two left on that pass you bought."

Had Hawke looked behind her at Carver's face, she would have seen him blush furiously, and adopting the same expression he had when she teased him about that chantry sister in lothering. 

However, she did not, and instead as they reached the steps to the Viscount's palace she left him behind as she headed up the stairs. 

She had come to see an old friend who she hadn't seen in quite a while, both due to her own circumstances, as well as the rigorous life of a guard. 

Aveline and Hawke had "Known" each other for years, both having served in the Ferelden army long before the fifth blight, and both of them had exited the battle of Ostagar with their entire companies slain and dead. 

They hadn't actually been close acquaintances, however, not before stumbling across each other on the road, fleeing Lothering as the darkspawn horde laid waste to the hamlet. 

After that, the two soldiers had been forced to bond over a traumatic couple of weeks on the way to Kirkwall, first on dragon back, then in the hull of a ship. 

There was a kind of camaraderie you only got with those you shed blood with together, and Aveline most certainly was that to Hawke. 

During the first few months in Kirkwall, they had gotten up to all kinds of nonsense missions together during Hawke's smuggling days. Well, Hawke had gotten into them, and Aveline had followed while being supremely annoyed at her companion all the way. Still, she had followed, and that was what was important. 

Since then, they had gone different ways, with Aveline becoming a guard, and Hawke becoming what one could charitably call a "Freelancer" doing bounties, retrieving stolen goods, smuggling, and all that she had had to do to keep her family's heads above the water. 

As Hawke walked up the steps, from which nobles and servants both went the same and the opposite direction, she got more than a few stares and sniffs of people who didn't much appreciate her walking into the center of power dressed in her smelly clothing, which still contained holes from arrows along her arm and two cuts from where a sword had gone through her leg. 

Not that Hawke cared much. She was heading to the barracks, not the places where you actually had to have power or get official appointments to enter. 

The great palace of Kirkwall was enormous. In fact, the only structure Hawke had ever seen that surpassed it in size was Fort Drakon back in Denerim. 

It was a marvelous structure, made of beautiful smooth stone and unlike most of the white city, it actually lived up to the city's moniker, being kept cleaned and cared for at all times. 

The floor might be compiled of Grey slabs of fine stone, but everything else was either pure white marble or gold bird statues and iron spikes along the top of the rails. 

The entire room shine in the morning sun that shined in from above through a series of glass windows in the roof itself. 

After entering the main entrance, Hawke made a sharp turn to the right and headed towards the entrance of the center of the city guard. 

Kirkwall's city guard was the closest thing the City-state had to a professional army. And it was a perfect example of the fact that just because someone might be competent, that didn't make them effective. 

The guard was well outfitted, knew how to fight, and could easily have been a force for good in the city. 

However, it had two main failings. One was a massive problem with corruption, and the other was the fact that the city guard simply needed to be bigger. Like, at least tenfold bigger than it currently was. 

But that would have been expensive, and certain parties who were fond of bribery were not too keen on more guards, so it just wasn't gonna happen. 

Hawke had heard Aveline complain about that more than a few times. Okay, a few dozen times really. 

Speaking of, as she entered the barracks proper, she found said Woman standing in front of a board with lots of paper stuck to it, which Hawke could only guess was guard schedules and such. 

"Aveline!" She strode forward with a smile and open hands to the sides. 

"Hello Hawke." the voice was calm and neutral, and the Guardswoman didn't even turn around, instead just kept looking at the board. 

Hawke let the silence hang as her arms slowly went down. 

"That's it?" 

"What?" Aveline finally turned around, confusion in her voice at Hawke's annoyed tone. 

"We haven't talked for three months Aveline, and that's the greeting you go with?" 

"Oh right, feels like we just talked. But you're right, it's been… It has been 3 months."

"Maker you need to get out more if you don't keep track of time better than that."

"Might I remind you, you haven't exactly been coming around much lately either. The last time you came here was when I was on an assignment over in Sisko's shield."

"Right. I've been kinda busy these last few months."

"No doubt, Aveline replied in a tone that screamed that had she been anyone else, she would have rolled her eyes at Hawke. 

Aveline was an interesting woman, in Hawke's opinion. Tall, with a strong, powerful build, with long flowing orange hair, tied up near the bottom behind her head. Her face was quite a bit more powerfully built than Hawke's, dotted with freckles, and with little femininity other than her large lips and pretty green eyes. 

That rather unfeminine face fit in very well with her outfit, a full set of Kirkwall guard uniform, with a good breastplate, shoulder pads, gauntlets, and plated leggings, and a good chainmail skirt to guard her groin. 

It looked more natural than she did out of armor anyway, as, beneath that steel, she had a body Hawke personally considered quite the catch. 

"Anyway, I believe you when you say you've been busy. I've been keeping up with your recent escapades. Information is one of the few perks of this job." 

"That so? What does your information say about my recent adventures then?" 

"Nothing you want me to Repeat here, believe me. More interestingly, there's been some talk about you and a couple of dwarves. Watch out for Barthrand by the way, He's a son of a bitch. 

" I hadn't noticed. I thought his gruff asinine demeanor was just his way of being coy." 

Aveline snorted. 

"If he isn't involved in half a dozen criminal enterprises, I'll eat my boots. In any case, don't trust him further than you can kick him."

"I'll keep that in mind, though I'm afraid I'm gonna have to put some trust into him if I want this whole thing to work."

She narrowed her eyes. 

"I rather hope you don't live to regret that decision. Then there is the other one. Varric."

"What about him?" 

"Nothing. Which is what I find alarming. He's well-liked amongst pretty much anyone I've asked, which is rarely the sign of a truly upstanding citizen of the law in this city. Not when the people he frequents includes all the criminal elements that it does. 

"Or maybe he's just really well-liked just because he's a swell, nice guy. Could be that. 

"You like him then?" 

"Sure do. He's quite the prince charming, what with his grand promises of great riches and adventure sweeping girls right off of their feet." 

She snorted. 

"Being Silver-tongued is one thing those I've talked to all agree about him."

"Oh, he definitely is. A cunning, charismatic rogue with a big crossbow, and open shirt. A man after my own heart."

"No doubt." She said dryly. 

"So what is the big plan you two have made together exactly? From what I've heard, Barthrand didn't exactly jump on your offer of bodyguards."

"Oh, he doesn't need bodyguards. He actually needs a partner to bail him out so he can get this expedition rolling at all. So, I just need to gather some fifty sovereigns, invest in the expedition, and we share all loot fifty-fifty. 

"Fifty sovereigns. That's your dwarf's big plan?" 

"Sure. I've got 9 already, and the deadline isn't anywhere near done. Now I just need to find another series of big breaks and I'll be ready to go before you know it."

"Yes, you and your constant big risks. You haven't changed much from the old days." 

What can I say? If you wanna stand out, you should go big. Be a dragon, not a wallflower.

"Dragons all get killed in the end, Hawke. Usually by some lucky idiot."

"Yes, but they actually leave an impact before they go, instead of being decorations in a garden that dies when the frost comes."

Aveline sighed then shook her head, no doubt reminiscing on the days when they had been captains in the Ferelden Army. Aveline had always been the rank and file Commander who did everything cleanly, and efficiently by the book, while Hawke had been kick in the door first and ask questions later kind. 

"Let me guess. You came here because you wanted me to offer a job."

"No, actually I came here to tell you that I finally managed to track down the Elven ambassadors, and finish the debt to Flemeth."

Aveline blinked, clearly taken by surprise by this development. 

"Really? You just got it over with, just like that?" 

"Oh no, I had to travel to near the top of Sundermount and do a funeral ritual for the thing, then Flemeth burst out of the amulet, gave the same kind of remarks she did last time, and flew off."

"Of course she did. Why is it that nothing normal can ever happen around you?"

She shrugged her shoulders. 

"Anyway, that was mainly what I came here to tell. You did tell me to inform you if I did manage to get that promise to Flemeth done with."

"I suppose I did that. Though, if you do also want a job, I do have something for you."

Hawke grinned. She had known coming to good old Aveline was the right move while Varric was busy trying to find another new job for her. 

"All right Aveline, what is it you have in mind?"

"I've had some reports about… Unsavory characters up along the caravan path through the mountains. An ambush, probably planning to hit the next big caravan that leaves Kirkwall in 3 days. Not really my district, but that doesn't matter though." 

Hawke nodded. Every good soldier knew that if you spotted a group making trouble as you passed through, you moved in, killed everyone, then moved on. That was the Ferelden way. 

"Highwaymen waiting for someone to Robb? I'm putting a stop to it, my district or not."

Thinking about maybe bringing the matter up with Varric, she asked. "Do you have a name or anything else to go on?" 

"Not important. If we show up and they attack, they're bad, simple as that. I'll wager it's smugglers though. Like I said, they're planning to hit the caravan, and frankly, they seem a bit too obvious for that." 

"So, it's a raid to get something specific then, not just a random plunder and rob?" 

"Most like." 

"So, initiative. Bold and dramatic solution. I like it. How'd you hear about it?"

"I have contacts. And they've been complaining about a lack of meat. Thugs and such. Someone's been hiring. And one or two were told to prepare for "travelers"."

"Not very subtle then, if they're being this obvious about it."

"This isn't Ferelden Hawke. The criminals here are far more open about things than back south."

She hesitated and looked around to make sure no one was listening in, but the room was completely empty. Then she leaned in and spoke very quietly. 

"You're not exactly that quiet about your jobs either you know."

Hawke just smiled, but decided not to challenge that assertion, and just move on. 

"Not that I'm complaining about getting a job, but this does seem like something that you should be sharing with your fellow guards."

"I will if you sit on your hands. I'll send my alerts, and someone else will take care of it. But there is both coin and influence to be had, you're my friend, and you need coin, so I'm offering. The job should pay at least 2 sovereigns or so."

And that was all Hawke needed to hear. 

"All right Aveline, I'll play guard for you…" 

"I knew I could count on you."

And she could. Hawke was always up for murdering her friend's enemies. In the olden days, those "friends" had been every law-abiding citizen in Ferelden. Now, it was a very small circle of people she cared deeply about. 

"They're hiding around Arthur's demise beneath Sundermount. We hit them tomorrow, using the old shortcut."

Hawke grinned. 

"Sounds like a plan."

Aveline though narrowed her eyes. 

"And no, you can't just go and do it without me. If you want to get paid, I need to be there. You're acting on behalf of the guard."

"Spoilsport. But alright, I'll wait for tomorrow then."


End file.
